


The Blue Door

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no situation, no opportunity, no sudden, aching desire that a werewolf can't control. Any man who says otherwise is just a man looking for an excuse.</p><p>37,000 words. NC-17. Explicit infidelity. Remus/Severus, Remus/Bill, background Charlie/OFC. May 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lupin_snape Fantasy Fest for the following request: _Remus is caught cheating on Snape, whether a one night stand or an affair. Actual infidelity less important than emotional fallout and trust issues. Post-Hogwarts. Hopeful/happy ending is preferred! _This story challenges a rather popular bit of werewolf fanon. No offence is intended to authors who have written that bit of fanon before; hey, I'm one of them. I just needed a different sort of plot point for this story. Massive thanks to my brilliant betas, islandsmoke and accio_arse.

*

The door is blue. 

It's not a peacock sort of blue, nor a duck egg blue, nor an aquamarine. It's much lighter than navy, but crisper than cobalt. In sum, it is the perfect colour, as far as doors go. It lets in the requisite amount of light and heat, keeps intruders at bay, and guards the house against any force that might wish to penetrate it. 

Inside the blue door live two men: quiet, unassuming men who may have courted trouble and intrusion in the past, but who no longer wish to be bothered with it. Inside the blue door there is happiness. Inside the blue door there is love. 

But this is not a story about how that love came to be, nor how, against all odds, it lasted so long. 

This is a story about how that love fell apart. 

  


* * *

  


"All right, that's the last of 'em." A stack of boxes floated through the doorway and settled on the living room floor, joining a host of others already close to toppling over in the overflowing room. 

Remus grinned and looked around. "Thanks, Charlie," he said, extending his hand. "Appreciate the help." 

"Glad to have you back in the area," replied Charlie, shaking his hand and then adding a soft punch to the shoulder for good measure. "I mean, both of you," he added, his smile faltering. 

Remus laughed, reaching for a bottle of water on a side table and taking a swig. It was hot, even for July, and he wasn't young anymore. Moving house was taking its toll. "Oh yes, I'm sure we'll be invited to all the best dinner parties once our neighbours find out what a social butterfly Severus is," he said after taking a drink, wiping his hand across his mouth. 

"I hear he does party tricks," said Charlie with a smirk. 

"You've not seen his balloon animals?" 

"Aha! Must have missed those. He'd be popular enough if you tell the neighbours he can cure the common cold, though." 

Remus sank onto the dusty sofa, still laughing. "Can you imagine?" he asked, sharing a conspiratorial look with Charlie. "'Ah, Mrs Codwell,'" he mocked, "'have you met my partner, Severus? He's more than capable of curing all your ailments with a few drops of potion, but he'd much rather hex you _and_ your insufferable children silent and immobile instead.'"

"Ah, so that's why you moved," said Charlie, nodding wisely. "I thought he'd likely pissed off the neighbours in Devon." 

"He did, of course," agreed Remus, "though there were other factors. It _will_ be nice to be closer to friends," he said warmly, smiling at Charlie and gesturing for him to find a seat amidst the boxes, "and the position is more prestigious here. He'll be in charge of his own laboratory again." 

"When was he _not?_"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Never in practice, but in name… well. Let's just say that Severus does not suffer fools, and that usually also means that he does not suffer employers or managers of any kind." 

"Mm." Charlie nodded, reaching for the bottle of water. They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, both glancing around the room and taking in Remus's new house. "Well, you'll have to come for dinner soon," he said at last, smiling at Remus. "You haven't seen Marina since the wedding, have you?" 

Remus thought for a minute, then shook his head. "God, has it been that long? No, because you came up to see us last March–"

"But she couldn't come, remember? That was right when Florian had new Ridgeback eggs cracking; made Marina go home to check for viruses and clear out the–"

"Ah, right, and then with the runty one and that business with the alpha Horntail, right? Or was that the year before?" 

"Nope, that was it. Never seen anything like it in all my years." Charlie let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Anyway!" He raised his eyes to Remus again. "So anytime you're settled, she'd love to see you both. I'm sure mum and dad'll have you over, too. You know Bill's back." 

The statement was thrown out casually, just appended to the conversation as though it had no bearing on matters at all. Remus's eyes snapped up, and he stared at Charlie longer than he should have. "What?" 

"Yeah, just since last month. Been keeping it sort of quiet, though." Charlie's smile faded and he lowered his voice, even though they were alone in the new house. 

"Is he… What about Fleur?" 

Charlie winced. "Still in Nice, far as I know. With the baby." He shook his head again and pressed his palms into his knees, averting Remus's eyes. "It got pretty bad, he said. Said he couldn't control it." 

Remus tried to keep his breathing even and not think about what it meant for his own life when things got _bad _for Bill Weasley, but he quickly put his own selfish thoughts aside. "He didn't hurt her?" His eyes were wide, but Charlie shook his head quickly. 

"Nah, not like that. She's fine. Just pissed off, you know? I don't know if they can save it this time." He looked infinitely sad for his brother, and Remus knew the feelings on his face were genuine. The close relationship Charlie had with his wife was well known and much admired among their family and friends. There was a tight bond there that Remus had sensed even years ago, when he'd first met Marina in Romania. They didn't so much finish each other's sentences as finish each other's _thoughts_, even through an initial language barrier, and Remus had always privately aimed to achieve that same degree of pure love and trust in his own relationship. That Charlie should wish it for his brother's marriage as well was no surprise. "She did some Unplottable Veela shit on their house," continued Charlie, barking an incredulous laugh. "Says he can't come back till they settle it with the lawyers." 

Remus exhaled and shook his head. "That's awful," he said quietly. 

"Yeah." Charlie was silent for a moment before glancing sideways at Remus. "Think he'd like to see you," he ventured. 

Remus scratched at his jaw and tried to think of an excuse – _any excuse_ – never to have to see Bill Weasley again. 

"Just, I mean, I know it's hard on you–"

"Oh no, it's fine, I mean–"

"–with the werewolf business and all, he's sort of a constant reminder to you of–"

"It's okay, really, I'm happy to help him if I can, it's just–"

"Even if you could just talk to him a bit, you know?" Charlie sighed, glancing around the room, and Remus fell silent. "It's not like it's impossible for werewolves to have stable relationships, right? I mean, you and Snape – er, I mean, _Severus _– are fine, right? He seems to be stuck in this 'lone wolf' mindset, like the wolf thing has him so messed up he'll never be able to stay married or anything." 

Remus stared at the floor, elbows digging into his knees and the water bottle twisting in his hands. 

"Just, there's the baby now, you know? It'd be nice if he could actually, you know…" Charlie gestured with his hand in the air, biting back a laugh. "Actually _live with his wife_, now there's a novel concept, eh?" He stood up. "Just get his shit together and live with his bloody wife." 

"Yeah." Remus set the water bottle down and rubbed his palms over the rough fabric on his thighs. "Of course. We should all have dinner, okay?" 

Charlie smiled broadly as he headed for the door. "That sounds great, thanks. When does Severus arrive?" 

"Uh, Thursday, I think. He's still working up north till then." 

"I'll tell Bill to call, then," he said as he left, and Remus nodded, lips tight, and closed the door behind him. 

  


* * *

  


Bill was in London. 

No, Bill was not only in London, he was a ten-minute walk away. And his wife was a _continent_ away. And Bill wanted his help. 

Remus leaned heavily over the sink, his elbows locked and his fists gripping the cool enamel as cold water dripped off his face. He raised his eyes to the mirror and saw only chafed lips and rapidly dilating pupils, just as he had every evening since Charlie had been over. 

He hadn't seen Bill in two years, not since the end of the war, when Bill and Fleur had moved to France. That had put an end to it – the lazy lunches, the extra pint around the corner from Gringott's after work, the intimate discussions about every single change Bill had experienced in his body since Greyback's attack. 

The pleas for advice. 

_"Come on, Remus, how do you stand it? I get so hard before the moon, I could fuck for days and not even feel it."_

The loaded looks exchanged across the table. 

_"Maybe I just need to find a man, you know? Fleur can't take it as rough as I want it. Old Snape does all right with you, then?"_

The hot breath on his neck at the front door of the Burrow one night. 

_"Fuck me. God, I won't tell anyone, no one has to know. Just tonight, Remus, please. I can't stand it anymore. Meet me back here at eleven, okay?"_

Remus watched the water drip from his chin as he remembered that night, how the blood had thrummed hotly through his body at Bill's desperate words. He'd only been able to murmur something incoherent at the time, thanking Molly for dinner and pushing past Bill at the door, the number _eleven_ scrolling through his head, but he hadn't gone. He hadn't done it. 

He'd sat in the armchair by the fire until Severus had returned home from his own meeting with Minerva, and then he'd grabbed Severus roughly and spread him over the sofa, drinking in his low groans and the way he'd glanced back over his shoulder, his black eyes heavy with arousal. They'd fucked all night, until they were both bruised and exhausted and unable to come anymore, and when Severus had propped himself up on one elbow in the morning, pushing a stray lock of hair out of Remus's eyes and giving him an amused if questioning look, Remus could only force a smile and distract him with a deep kiss, unable to examine his own desires too closely. 

Unable to make eye contact with Severus, lest he see the truth. 

And now Bill was back, Bill was here, Bill wanted to see him again. And Bill would want all sorts of things from him again that Remus couldn't give, of that he was certain. 

His breath came in thick huffs and he stared at his reflection, reviewing his vows in his head. 

_"None of that 'love, honour and obey' shit, all right?" _

"Fine. What about 'in sickness and in health,' Lupin? That way I can be sure to bind myself to a life of cleaning up werewolf droppings." 

"Lovely. Thank you. I'll be sure to keep that image with me." 

"Let me guess: it's the 'obey' part that's fine, but 'love and honour' makes you break out in a rash." 

"No, that's you. I'm the other way around." 

"Ah, my mistake." 

"Mm. Severus?" 

"Yes?" 

"Be with me. That's all I want. And remember this when we wake up tomorrow. Just promise to be with me." 

"For how long?" 

"Long as you can." 

"That's… not a very tall order, really." 

"It is when you think about it. And you – what do you want me to say?" 

"Just… no more lies. I'm tired of wars and strategies. Be with me, and never lie to me." 

"I couldn't lie to a Legilimens if I wanted to." 

"I'm not joking." 

"I know. I didn't mean–"

"Will you promise it?" 

"I– yes. Of course."

A commitment to a man like Severus was not to be taken lightly, Remus knew that, and he _didn't_ take it lightly. They had fought together in two wars, and had alternated between desiring each other so badly they couldn't breathe and loathing each other so viciously they couldn't recover. The magnitude of their shared distrust had almost overwhelmed them, multiple times. They had each been seduced by others, usually at just those heightened moments of anger with each other, and they had both done more harm to each other than good. 

But when all was said and done; when the smoke had cleared and the spies' names rehabilitated; when other lovers had faded away and they were left facing each other, panting, wands drawn and eyes narrowed, they had jumped in head first and discovered that no matter how hard they tried, they simply couldn't live without one another. 

Remus breathed, watching his lined face in the mirror and taking in the way his nostrils moved with each intake of air, each slow exhale, each calming wave washing over his overstimulated nerves and his overactive imagination. The wolf desired Bill Weasley, there was no denying that. But Remus could control it. He had to control it. With each new breath, he conjured images of Severus in his mind's eye. 

Severus naked and spread out on their bed. 

Severus writhing underneath him and taking his thrusts as hard as he could give them, oh yes. 

Severus with his shirt off, thick arms rippling and rune tattoos flashing off his chest, reaching back to pull the tie out of his hair and let long, red strands fall over his shoulders as he advanced, _growling_, each movement carefully timed to capture prey and – 

Oh, God. 

"_You're the only one who knows what this is like, Remus_," Bill's scratched, desperate voice whispered in his head. "_You've got to help me. Teach me how to control it. I can't keep this up, wanting to fuck everything that moves_."

Angrily, Remus twisted the tap again and ran his hands under the icy water, splashing his face and bare chest and shaking out his hair. _Get a fucking hold of yourself_. 

He towelled himself off and heard movement down in the kitchen. Under any other circumstances, he would have grinned madly at the sound and raced down the stairs two at a time. 

"You've been here a week and there's not _any_ decent food in this refrigerator!" a familiar, irate voice hollered up the stairs. "Must my life consist of starvation in addition to training imbecile apprentices on the methods of keeping their test tubes upright?" 

These were not just any circumstances. 

Steeling his nerves and trying to relax, Remus headed downstairs to welcome Severus home. 

  


* * *

  


The new house had rhythms, they soon found, and it was left mostly to Remus to accommodate them. 

It needed work; they'd known that when they'd bought it, but it was more than that. The window panes shuddered when opened, and the tiles weren't quite right: they seemed to shift whenever Remus walked over them barefoot. Then there was that front door, of course – something was wrong with it, but nothing that could be either painted over or washed off. Remus tilted his head to the side and gave the thing a good, hard look in the mornings as Severus opened it to leave for work, but the answer never leapt out at him. 

"Maybe some varnish," he'd find himself muttering as he closed the door and padded back inside. "Maybe a new knocker." But five minutes later he would be absorbed in a different activity altogether and would have forgotten about the door. Didn't really matter, he supposed. Not like it was going anywhere. 

"Chicken," he mumbled now, his head stuck in the fridge. 

He heard Severus look up from his newspaper. "Chicken," he repeated. "As in, we have some; as in, we need some; as in, I wish I _were_ one. Please, Lupin, do be precise." 

"As in," sighed Remus, removing his head from the chill and closing the door, "you should pick some up tonight if you want to eat." 

"Don't tell me: you'll make a sauce." 

"I'll– hey! You like sauce." 

"I do," agreed Severus. "It keeps the chicken edible." 

"I've not heard you complain before." 

"All right. You're hearing me complain now. No chicken. No sauce." 

"I'll just wait for you to do the cooking then, shall I?" 

"By all means. I own a wand. Last time I checked, you did, too." 

"Ah." Remus leaned back against the fridge and folded his arms over his chest. "It's about my wand, is it?" 

"Isn't it always?" Severus forced down a smirk. 

"I'm not even sure I know what we're talking about anymore, but certainly: it _can _be about that, if you'd like." 

"Why, Lupin, are you offering to make me late for work by having sex with me over the breakfast table?" 

"It seems I am." 

Severus brushed the crumbs from his fingers and crossed the kitchen, leaning against the fridge door with Remus, matching his stance with folded arms of his own, and looking him in the eye. "You would make it worth my while, I trust?" 

"I would." 

"You would make it worth missing a nine o'clock meeting with my Herbologist that's already been rescheduled three times?" 

Remus paused. "I would." 

"And you would make it worth soiling my best working robes so that–"

"All right," snapped Remus. "I get it." He forced a smile, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of Severus's face. "You have more important things to do. Run along, then." 

Severus straightened his robes, leaned in to bite at Remus's ear, and then headed for the door. 

"Bring me some fucking chicken to cook," Remus hollered after him, still slumped against the fridge. "Can't conjure everything from a wand," he added under his breath. 

  


* * *

  


Yes, the new house had its rhythms, and Remus had his rhythms, and Severus had his rhythms. The three managed to coincide less often than Remus would have liked. 

But the house wasn't the problem, and Severus wasn't the problem. If there was a problem at all, Remus couldn't put his finger on it. There was contentment and happiness, punctuated by episodes of anger and disappointment that appeared without reason. The excitement, danger, and sheer exhilarating taboo of fucking during wartime had evaporated, replaced by safety and domesticity and chicken with sauce, and sure, the sex was good and the love even better, but Remus was a werewolf. Sex and love weren't always enough. 

It was like being surrounded by water, drinking as heartily and as often as he desired, and still coming up thirsty. 

The full moon rose over the blue door the second week after they'd moved in, painting it in shadow and hovering over the house like a brittle chandelier, the kind that would still give off light but had long ago lost its ability to impress. 

Curled up on a hearth rug in the basement while Severus snored upstairs, Remus humped himself raw in a fold of chafing wool, visions seeping into his conscious mind of another man locked up like this tonight, not quite a wolf but thrashing all the same, naked and hard and chained against the desires no mere humans would ever let him indulge. 

  


* * *

  


"Okay! Come, sit, _sit_. Yes, there, and you, Severus, go over there by Charlie. Here, take this pot – no, it is not too hot. Yes, over there. Remus! Where is he? The soup will be cold. My God, you _men_, not even caring about my cooking…"

Marina bustled around the kitchen, shoving dishes into their hands to carry to the table and patting her hair down whenever she seemed to sense it had yet again become as frazzled as her mood. 

"I know what you're thinking," Charlie whispered to Remus and Severus as they found their seats, "but I _do_ help out, yeah? She just went mad today about doing it all herself." He grinned and lowered his voice even further, mocking his wife's accent. "'What, _you_ will make the _mamaliga?_ My God. No. That is cruel. Your friends will die.'"

Remus smiled, reaching out to make more room on the table for the increasing number of dishes Marina continued to carry in. "Let me guess," he murmured. "She's used to taking care of incompetent men." 

Severus snorted, folding his napkin on his lap. "I'm sure there are no other kind in a colony of dragon-keepers." He raised an eyebrow at Charlie, who glared back. 

"Haha." He rolled his eyes. "And she only picked me because I was the best of a bad lot, right?" 

Severus simply shrugged, and Remus shot him a look. It was always a risk, bringing Severus to social events of any kind, but Remus figured this one couldn't possibly be too offensive to him. It was only the four of them for dinner, and Remus was banking on Severus showing enough interest in the couple's work with magical creatures – Charlie's constant commuting between their home in London and the hatchery he was overseeing at Marina's family's property in Romania, and especially Marina's own job researching dragon's blood-based potions at the London branch of the European Institute for Endangered Magical Plants and Animals – to get them through the evening. 

Everything _had _been going fine, until Severus decided to ask the question Remus had been dreading. 

Reaching for another chunk of bread, Severus glanced around the room. "Where's Bill?" he said. Two simple, easy words, but the other three people at the table instantly tensed. 

"Oh, yeah," Charlie piped up, shoving a bite in his mouth and talking around it. "Sorry about that. Thought he'd be here, of course – he wanted to say hello. But, uh, he couldn't make it tonight." 

Remus took a sip of wine. "That's all right," he said, hoping he hadn't jumped in too quickly. "We can catch up with him another time." 

"No, I mean, he wanted to come," Charlie hastened to add, wiping his napkin over his lips and looking at Remus apologetically from across the table. "I know he wants to see you, it's just that…" He paused, frowning. 

"Just that he is embarrassed," Marina said, swatting Charlie's arm and turning to gaze furiously at Remus. "Charlie won't tell you this, but it is so stupid. My God. He left his wife in France! He _should_ be embarrassed," she added, stabbing at her food. "How is he supposed to eat dinner like a normal person, with guests?" She gestured at them with her fork. "It is ridiculous. Like we should talk about the weather, or his work? Ridiculous." 

"Come on, it's not like that," Charlie began half-heartedly, but she pointed her fork at him. 

"He has been here six weeks," she barked, "and what have you two done? Play Quidditch. Tell stories about the Burrow. Roll around on the floor and play – what is that?" She paused, her hands animated in mid-air, and Charlie smirked. 

"Gobstitch," he said, turning to Remus and Severus. "It's brilliant – Fred and George invented it. See, you've got your Gobstones in the air, and then you've got to keep the Quaffle–"

Marina shook her head sadly. "Gobstitch," she muttered. "My God." 

"And what do you suggest he spend his time doing?" said Severus, and Remus glanced over at him to find the look in his eyes not quite as condescending as he'd expected. He almost looked concerned. 

Marina glared at him as if in disbelief. "Find out what is wrong with him!" she cried. "He thinks he cannot fix it, that he must go to these clubs every night and– well." 

A blush crept up her face, and Remus dropped his eyes to his plate, willing away images of just where Bill was right now, and what he was doing. 

"He thinks it is okay! He can just live like this, with no wife, just go and do this fucking!" 

Charlie visibly winced, clenching his hand over his fork. "Okay, come on, that's not fair–"

"Marina," Severus said again, his voice low and calming, and Remus smiled as he noted its instant effect on her. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair out of her face, then raised her eyes to Severus. "What do you think can be done?" 

"Severus works with werewolves," added Remus quietly. "He might be able to help." 

Charlie glanced up. "What? Since when?" He looked over at Remus. "You didn't tell me this." 

"It's new," Severus admitted. "A bit. There wasn't much challenge left in the field of antidotes and draughts for popular consumption." His lips twisted into something approximating a smirk. "This new laboratory I'm at does a good deal of work with magical creature biology. We've been experimenting with werewolf blood and tissue, trying to learn more about their genetic make-up in order to alleviate some of the more… insidious effects." 

Marina sighed in relief. "Thank God," she said, throwing her hands up. "Someone is doing it. Okay, good." She nodded. "Look, do you work there?" She turned her head to Remus, as if the answer would be obvious. 

"I– no, I don't," he muttered. 

"What? Why not?" 

Charlie was giving him an apologetic look, and Remus had to smile. Apparently there was no stopping Marina when she had something on her mind. "It's okay," he mouthed to Charlie, before turning to Marina. "I decided a long time ago that I didn't want to be a test subject," he replied. "At least not in any laboratory Severus runs." 

"Ah." She nodded, digging into her food again. "Okay, yes, this is normal. It is not good, when couples work together."

"Except when they get together _because_ they work together?" Charlie offered, eyebrows raised, and she gave him a sweet smile. 

"Yes, of course, except for that. But do I ask for your blood? No. It is important. If I did this, you are my lab rat, not my husband." She nodded again, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay," she began again after swallowing, pointing her fork at Severus, "now, what are you doing, these tests?" 

"_Lab rat_," Charlie murmured to Remus from across the table, grinning. "Of all the phrases she's learned…"

"It's a bit confidential at the moment," said Severus in reply to her question, "but perhaps we could talk more later. We both have an interest in taming the wolf, so to speak." He said it completely deadpan, but Remus caught the hint of a growl in his voice and felt a small thrill. _His _wolf loved Severus's efforts at taming, as well as his efforts at letting it loose. The full moon was still a few weeks off, but that didn't matter to Remus's libido; if Severus kept talking like this, Remus might have to drag him away from the dinner table and ravish him in their hosts' living room. He shifted in his chair, pushing his food around on his plate. 

Marina nodded again. "Yes. Okay, when? I must be back in Timisoara on Friday for the Fireball births, and I have meetings at the Institute on Monday." 

"Tuesday, then," said Severus, wiping his mouth. "My laboratory isn't far from the Institute. I'll Floo you at lunch." 

Remus raised his eyebrows at Charlie, a look that meant, _Of all the unlikely friendships_, and Charlie snorted back a laugh, reaching for his wife's hand. 

"So, what do you do, then?" Marina asked Remus, and both Charlie and Severus cleared their throats, frowning and dropping their eyes. Charlie leaned in and began to murmur quietly to her, but Remus interrupted him. 

"I don't do anything," he said with a forced smile. "Utterly unemployed. And unemployable," he added, winking at her, but she wouldn't accept the joke. His smile faded as he saw Severus glaring at him and Charlie staring at his plate. 

"What?" Marina pressed. 

"It's really hard," Charlie muttered again, his head close to Marina's. "There're laws, love. Since the war." 

"It's not necessary to whisper, Charlie," Severus cut in with a sneer, having found his tongue. Remus pressed his lips together. "It's not a secret that the Ministry is run by incompetent bigots." 

"A coordinated attack on the Ministry by three dozen feral werewolves will do that," snapped Remus, his eyes locked on Severus. "It's not entirely their fault, and you know it. I should be in jail for that, not just unemployed." 

Severus put his fork down, his voice rising. "Never mind that it was instrumental in distracting the Dark Lord at _just_ the moment he needed to–" He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. "Very well," he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin before turning to Marina, whose eyes darted between the two of them. "Lupin does not work because he is a glutton for punishment. He has internalised the discrimination against werewolves and does not believe himself worthy of employment." He squared his shoulders and sat very still, his gaze level, as though daring the others to take him on. 

Remus shook his head, running his hands through his hair and laughing too loud. "Yes!" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "That's just it! Severus knows me so _very_ well, you see. I am nothing but a self-loathing werewolf who can't–"

"Okay! Enough with this thing," Marina interrupted, and both Remus and Severus turned to her, wide-eyed. She waved her hand dismissively, and Charlie seemed to relax, eyeing her with that smirk he always seemed to wear around her, as though he was constantly amused and impressed by her force of personality. "Listen," she said to Remus. "You were a teacher? Charlie says you taught at Hogwarts." 

"Many years ago," Remus grumbled. 

"Good. Okay. I need a teacher. Can you take ten-year-olds and not kill them?" 

All three men at the table stared at her. 

"Are you serious?" asked Charlie after a long pause, his enthusiasm gathering with each passing second. "Can you do that? What've you got, a kids' camp? That's brilliant!" He turned to Remus, excited. "She can do it unofficially, no papers. Anyone asks, just say you're at the Institute to visit her. What do you think?" 

"He did not answer me," said Marina, smiling. "Ten-year-old kids. No killing. Can you?" 

"I– yes," said Remus. "No killing. But what– how does it– teaching them to what?" 

She waved her hand again, a gesture Remus was beginning to think she must have adopted when her wand wasn't near, given the magic that seemed to come up whenever she did it. "We will find something. Always there are kids there, wanting to know about potions and dragons. Children of the workers. We will have a class." She nodded firmly, as though that settled the matter. "I will look at my budget tomorrow and find a payment for you. There," she added, glancing up at Severus. "Now he does not loathe himself, hm?" 

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Those were his words, not mine," he said coldly. 

"But it is a problem!" she exclaimed. "This is the same thing for Bill. The wolf, the wolf. It is always about the wolf." She picked up her fork again and stabbed at a potato. "Let me tell you this thing. With the dragons, we see that the worst thing to do is think of them as magical creatures. Right away they are different, _creatures_ – you know? They are not so different, in fact. This is the mistake with werewolves also." 

Remus tilted his head to the side. "Not so different from what?" he asked. 

"Humans," Charlie replied, and Marina nodded at him, taking another mouthful of food. "It sounds mad, but you know, she's found some really amazing things in the past few years. The potions properties of dragon's blood are multiple, of course, but it's also a really versatile ingredient. They've found you can use it in a lot of things that call for something else instead – like, okay, don't laugh, but you know what? If you have a potion that calls for Kneazle semen, you can use Ridgeback blood and it does the same thing." 

Remus raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Severus. "That true?" he asked. 

Severus lifted his shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. "It's crude, but not incorrect. It doesn't entirely explain the assertion that dragons are human, however." He gave Charlie an expectant look. 

"Yeah, yeah." Charlie waved his fork in the air. "Right, then: not _human_, exactly, but you get the point. At least, some of us do." He shot a look at Severus, who merely looked bored. Remus hastened to cut in. 

"Remind us," he said with a smile, and Charlie looked over at him and relaxed again. 

"There are creatures, and there are persons," said Marina. "For werewolves, the most important thing is to decide which is which. You can be one thing, or the other thing, but not both of them." 

Remus shot a glance at Severus out of the corner of his eye but held his tongue. Marina certainly had her opinions about things, and she _was_ a respected researcher, but working with dragon-based potions clearly hadn't schooled her in werewolf biology. Suppressing a smile, he saw that Severus was doing the same thing, his lips twisted as he physically resisted the urge to argue. 

"Well," Remus said after a moment, "it's certainly an interesting theory. But Marina, you must tell me more about this bread," he added, noting Severus's sigh of relief as he changed the subject. "It's delicious! Much heartier than I would expect. You know, I travelled a bit in Ukraine many years ago, and–"

"Ukraine!" Marina exclaimed. "No. My God. That food is not like ours. Listen, it is the flour that does it…"

Remus caught Charlie's wink as he sat back in his chair, nodding in all the right places as Marina explained Romanian cuisine to them, and grateful that they'd escaped any further talk about werewolves – especially Bill and his nocturnal exploits. 

  


* * *

  


"Well?" Remus stepped up to the front door and murmured the key to the wards. 

"Well, what?" Severus followed him inside. "This door is hideous, by the way. Are we painting it, or simply hoping the neighbourhood hooligans will have a go at it soon?" 

"Well, did you have a good time?" said Remus. "And I rather like it. It catches the sunlight in an odd way. Makes it look different shades throughout the day." 

"I had a pleasant enough evening," Severus allowed, hanging his cloak in the hall closet. "Throughout the day? Do you run outside every hour to check it?" 

Remus paused on the stairs. "Yes," he muttered, "because I haven't anything better to do, have I?" 

"That's not what I meant, so don't do that. Will you take that job with Marina?" Severus touched his arm to turn him, gazing up from the step below. "I liked her," he added gruffly, and Remus was sufficiently surprised by that admission to let the issue of his unemployment slide. 

"Did you?" 

Severus shrugged, following him upstairs. "She says what she thinks, and she's got the brains enough to think the right things. What's not to like?" 

"Aha!" Remus laughed. "She agreed with you a few too many times, that's all, and for you, that's enough to make a lifelong friendship." 

"Perhaps." Severus allowed himself a tiny smile, moving into their bedroom and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "Lupin," he began again, as Remus stepped into the closet. 

"Mm?" 

"What did you think of her idea?" 

"Which one, that werewolves are either human or not, and can't have it both ways?" Remus frowned, dropping his shirt from his shoulders and reaching for his belt. He shook his head. "You know how it gets," he said quietly. "You know better than almost anyone. I'm quite certain I'm not making it up." 

"I don't know better than you," Severus murmured, moving closer and pushing a lock of hair out of Remus's eyes. 

He glanced up from his trousers and smiled. "I hear you have an interest in _taming the wolf_," he teased. 

"Mm," Severus breathed, pulling Remus close and whispering in his ear. "Not always. How tameis it feeling tonight?" 

"Not very," admitted Remus, pushing Severus back towards the bed and bending in to nip at his neck. 

"Come on, then," Severus murmured in challenge, his voice low and his hands already roaming, pushing Remus's trousers down and pulling him on top of him on the bed. 

Remus wasted no time accepting the invitation, flinging the rest of his clothes aside and straddling Severus's hips, spreading his palms over Severus's chest under his unbuttoned shirt and licking a wet trail from his collarbone down to his belly. Severus wasn't groaning yet, that would take more time – he was still in that unbearably repressed stage where he tried to keep sound to a minimum, tried to withstand Remus's onslaught without admitting his weakness for such all-encompassing touch. 

But after this many years together, Remus knew exactly what those weaknesses were, and he pounced on them, biting at Severus's shoulder and holding his arms down with bruising fingers. 

"I saw you looking at him, you know," Severus panted, tilting his head back into the pillow, and Remus paused, raising his head just enough to catch Severus's eye. 

"What did you see?" said Remus, trying to keep his tone light as his hands tugged at Severus's trousers. 

"Charlie," murmured Severus, taking a shuddering breath as Remus's hands brushed past his prick. "Whispering with you at dinner. Laughing. Watching you. Oh, God, yes." 

Remus smiled at the response and did it again, ghosting his mouth over Severus's prick without quite touching it. Finally he glanced up. "The day Charlie Weasley ever cheats on his wife will be the day the world as we know it comes to an end, you know," he said. 

"Perhaps," Severus breathed. "Doesn't mean you weren't looking. This close to the moon? I know you were looking." 

"The moon's not that close yet," said Remus, amused. 

"Close enough," Severus grumbled. "I _know _you were looking." 

Remus sat up, trapping Severus's body between his thighs. He narrowed his eyes, forcing Severus's gaze down to his cock as he pushed it slowly up against Severus's, drinking in the sight of Severus's face as the usual lines of disagreement faded into pleasure and arousal. "Jealous?" he murmured. 

"Hardly." Severus licked his lips, arching his hips up for more contact. "Unless you were thinking of doing this with him." 

Remus smiled and shook his head, grabbing Severus's wrists and bringing them up above his head, holding them down against the cool sheets. "Don't tell me you like that idea," he murmured, feeling his skin warm under Severus's touch and his face flush at the taboo words. 

"No," Severus whispered. 

"You don't like the thought of me with another man?" Remus continued, enjoying the way Severus's heart rate was quickening underneath him. "You could watch, you know." His teeth dragged against the skin of Severus's neck and shoulder as their cocks aligned again, pleasure beginning to overtake him. 

"No," Severus repeated, twisting his head away from Remus's mouth, but Remus pressed down harder. 

"Next dinner party," he breathed, squeezing Severus's bound wrists in his hands, "we'll bring Charlie home and you can watch me with him, hmm? Maybe it'd be his first time with a man, would you like that? Watch me throw him down on this bed and show him how _men fuck_, and when you–"

"NO!" 

With a surge of strength, Severus shoved Remus off him and struggled to sit up, hauling Remus back down to the bed and reversing their positions. He covered Remus with his entire body and pressed down, everywhere he could – his fingers bruising Remus's arms, his knees pinning Remus's thighs, and his cock hard and threatening between Remus's legs. 

"I don't care about your werewolf blood, or your wandering eye, or all the men you'd rather fuck than me when the moon rises," Severus spat. "You belong to me," he said, grinding down on Remus's cock and dropping his head to lick at Remus's chest. "Your cock, and your arse, and your mouth…" He made small biting motions, tugging lightly at Remus's skin and pushing his hips down harder to press Remus's cock against his belly. "Your tongue, your fingers, your… _God_… your lips… they're all mine, do you hear me?" His initial threatening tone had softened to a purr, contrasting with the insistent motions of his body, and Remus writhed under him, gasping for breath. 

"All yours," he murmured. He tilted his hips up obediently as Severus whispered a spell to slick his hand and worked two fingers inside Remus, still pinning him down and breathing hot on his chest and shoulder, punctuating each movement of his fingers with another bite or lick up Remus's torso. The wolf hated being pinned this way – Severus knew that – but as he relaxed into his lover's touch, Remus felt his arousal building, made all the more powerful by the restraints put on the wolf's desire to be the aggressor. 

He quieted his mind and concentrated on just _enjoying_. Severus desired him more than anyone else, and Remus knew how difficult it had been in the first place to ever convince Severus to convert their affair into a committed relationship. He had wanted nothing more at the time than to claim Severus as his own, to go home with him every night and wake up with him every morning, to go food shopping with him and debate curtain shades and make love whenever they wanted, falling asleep together afterwards without concern for either personal safety or professional reputation. 

Severus slid his fingers out and sat back, pushing Remus's right leg up and positioning himself. Remus pulled him back down for a deep kiss as Severus pushed his cock inside, gasping against Severus's open mouth and lifting his hips as Severus's cock slid inside him. 

A man like Severus did not do things halfway. He bound himself to others in the most permanent ways possible – Dark Marks, Unbreakable Vows – and he did not make promises lightly. Every time Severus was inside him, Remus felt the intensity of that commitment and it made him shudder in pleasure. He ground down against Severus's cock now and let his mouth fall open, breathy moans escaping him with every push. He hitched his leg up further and sank into the bed, letting Severus move over him and in him, hips roughly circling and hands tight around Remus's shoulders. 

"Tell me it's me," Severus whispered, his voice barely audible against Remus's neck. It was hot now, their bodies moving together and the sheets growing damp with every movement, and Remus let his cock fall limp as the sensation of being thoroughly fucked overwhelmed him. He focused all his energy on Severus's cock inside his body, Severus's weight on top of him keeping him safe. 

"It's you," he murmured back, his lips moving over Severus's neck and jaw, open-mouthed kisses brushing the rough skin, and it wasn't a lie; Severus was the only one. 

Severus came quickly, surging forward and stilling as his cock pulsed inside Remus's arse. Dry lips stuck to Remus's throat as panting air heated his skin and Severus's racing heartbeat thudded where their chests pushed together. "Tell me again," Severus murmured, his body still tense as he raised his head and sought Remus's eyes. That gaze was the same one Remus had first fallen in love with so many years ago, its naked emotion something Severus let hardly anyone else ever see. 

"It's you," he promised again, his voice soft and his body wilting, and as Severus withdrew and rolled off him, one hand trailing down Remus's stomach to trace over his thickening cock with expert fingers, Remus closed his eyes and saw only the blankness of the ceiling on the insides of his lids. 

  


* * *

  


**Part 2:**

Living in the aftermath of a war was not as liberating as Remus might have assumed. He shouldn't have assumed anything of the sort, of course, not after living through another war twenty years earlier and finding the same result – the same listless wandering, the same disappointment in those with whom he'd fought, and the same failure to make the victory mean anything at all to his changed world. 

Maybe that was because the world around him had changed, but he had not. Sometimes, lying on his back at night with Severus an arm's length away from him on the bed, curled up facing the opposite wall, Remus imagined he was still fighting. The war had wearied him, to be sure, but it had also kept him alive, in the sense that it had kept his heart thudding in his chest from the regular doses of adrenaline, and had kept his reasons for fighting and living clear in his mind. 

Without a war, those reasons had become harder and harder to find. 

  


* * *

  


"It's not the size of your dart, mate, it's what you do with it. Look." Charlie raised his right hand up to his face and aimed the pointy object forward, narrowing his eyes and frowning in concentration. With a snap of his wrist and a whiz of air, the dart sailed forward and landed with a sharp _thud_ right in the centre of the board. 

"Keep that up and no one will play with you," said Remus, taking a sulky sip from his pint. 

"Hasn't happened yet," said Charlie, cheerfully plucking the dart from the board and sauntering back to their nearby table. "And I've played darts with a _lot_ of blokes." 

Remus caught the grin and shook his head, smiling into his glass. "That one's too easy, even for me." He thought for a moment as Charlie fondled the dart a little bit. "You're joking, right?" 

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I'm joking." He took another gulp and wiped his hand across his mouth, eyeing Remus with that mischievous grin he always seemed to wear. "Not out to steal you away from your knight in shining armour." 

"No?" Remus gripped his glass, thinking back on Severus's flare of jealousy the week before. "I think that's wise, if you value your… little dart… there." He nodded at Charlie's crotch and hid a grin. He'd had a few too many pints tonight, he feared, but sod it. He hadn't gone out drinking in ages, and Severus was still at the lab, so what harm was there? 

"Oh ho!" Charlie's eyes widened. "Would he really?" he added, sliding back into his chair and leaning forward with avid interest, his elbows on the table. 

"Oh yes," said Remus solemnly. "He values my honour most highly." 

"Never would have thought anyone'd tame that crusty old bugger. Don't tell me he's really a softie at heart or I think I might vomit." 

"No, he isn't. He's just as crusty as he looks." 

"So… what is it? He's got a massive cock, then?" 

Remus held Charlie's gaze, trying to keep the colour from his cheeks. "Guess that's it," he said lightly, sipping his drink. 

Charlie laughed, clapping him on the back. "Good man!" 

"Massive cock?" a voice behind them cut in, and Remus froze. 

He knew that voice. He'd tried rather hard for the past two years to forget that voice. He had been assured of an evening of beer and darts with Charlie _without_ that voice. He released a quiet breath and schooled his face into a neutral expression. There wasn't any cause for alarm, after all; it wasn't as though he had ever _actually_ slept with Bill, even though an unnamed guilt and awkwardness made him feel like he had. 

"Not polite to talk about me behind my back, mate," the voice added, as a hand cuffed Charlie on the back of the head and Charlie turned, letting out a stream of good-natured curses. The voice stepped into view as Remus raised his eyes. "Remus," the voice said softly, and Remus found an extended hand in front of him. "Been a long time." 

He looked up to see Bill Weasley nearly exactly as he remembered him: the red hair was still long and tied back; the weathered face was still youthful under a weariness that had nothing to do with the scars; and he still carried himself like Head Boys always did, even years after their tenure. Remus had seen the same swagger in James right up to his death, the same attitude of constant amusement coupled with sly superiority. First-borns, Head Boys… one thing they all had in common, in Remus's experience, was that they always got what they wanted, and more often than not, they wanted nothing short of the world on a plate. 

Remus reached out to shake his hand and felt his arm ignite, heat from the brief touch spreading through his body. That was something else that hadn't changed, then. "Bill," he said calmly, pulling his hand back as quickly as he could without being impolite. It was madness, that his heart should thud in his chest and his blood should feel warmer whenever he was around Bill. Remus was older, wiser, and much better versed in werewolf physiology; he should be able to withstand the testosterone onslaught of a half-wolf pup with sexual energy to burn. 

_It's not about you_, he reminded himself. _It's about the wolf_.

The wolf had a partner at home that fulfilled all its needs, didn't it? There was no reason for it to look elsewhere. None at all. 

"What're you doing here?" asked Charlie, gulping back his beer, and Bill shrugged. 

"Went around your place and Marina said you two were over here. Not interrupting anything, am I?" He glanced from Charlie to Remus, a smirk on his lips. He pulled out a chair and dropped into it with a smooth motion, beckoning for a beer with a quick wave to the waitress, and then surveying Remus and Charlie. 

Charlie rolled his eyes, collecting the darts and piling them in front of him. 

"So," continued Bill, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread and his eyes alight. "Back to my cock. Remus's been asking about it, or what?" He levelled a challenging gaze at Remus, chin tilted up and lips curled in a suppressed smile. Charlie laughed. Remus did not. 

"Just trying to figure out what old Snape's got that keeps Remus coming back for more," Charlie said. "I say it's got to be his prick, since it sure ain't his personality." 

"Ah." Bill had glanced at Charlie while he was speaking, but his eyes quickly locked on Remus again. "Is that it?" he asked Remus, settling back in his chair with his elbows resting on the arms and his hands folded casually over his stomach. "I'd like to hear about that." He glanced at Charlie and grinned. "You might've heard: I'm much more interested in cock these days than my wife is, so any help you want to give me in that line, go ahead." 

Charlie punched him in the shoulder, shaking his head as Bill laughed. 

"Oh, lighten up," he told Charlie, then turned his gaze back on Remus. "Charlie here doesn't approve of my recent trawl through the nation's cock and arse," he said sadly, glancing up and flashing a grin at the waitress as she placed his beer on the table. She coloured and scurried back to the bar, an extra sway in her hips for Bill's benefit. "It's tragic, really," continued Bill, dragging his eyes from the waitress reluctantly. "First time in years I've got a goal in life, and my own brother won't even support me." 

"If your goal in life is to get every bloke in leather at Prague 5 to suck your dick, then no, I don't support it," said Charlie, glancing from Bill to the waitress with a frown, before giving a short laugh and turning to Remus. "I'm a full supporter of dick, don't get me wrong. The more pricks out there entertaining each other, the more skirt there is for _me_, you understand. _If_ I were the type to be interested in that sort of thing," he added. "Which I'm not. But my brother here could use a few pointers, Remus." He glared at Bill. "Like getting himself a set of divorce papers before running around Europe with his cock out, for one." 

"Right," Bill shot back. "I free her up, and you're going to run after some nice Veela twat, is that it?" 

"Yeah," said Charlie, shaking his head, "that's it, Bill. You got me." 

"Hey, Remus," Bill added angrily, his eyes still on Charlie, "you want to come keep my cock busy so my brother can fuck my wife?" 

"Oh, fuck you, that's not what I said." 

"That's what you meant, isn't it? You've always had your eye on her." 

"Unlike the rest of the world, I actually love my wife." Remus watched Charlie clutch at his glass with hardened fingers, both brothers glaring at each other. 

"So unlike the rest of the world, you're not actually after mine?" Bill laughed. "Nice try." 

"You see this?" Charlie turned to Remus, his face set in stone. "Here's our newest werewolf. Biggest dickhead in Surrey, and that's on a good day." He looked back at Bill. "I got married because I wanted to, yeah? Not to prove I could still land a _Veela_ with a werewolf scar on my dick." 

"Oh-ho!" said Bill icily, his fingers digging into his biceps where his arms crossed over his chest. "You got me figured out, then, Charlie? You know so much? You don't have a fucking clue what it's like to–"

"Bill." 

Remus spoke the word quietly but firmly, and Bill instantly fell silent. Remus traced the edges of his glass with light fingers, tilting his head to the side and pondering his next words. Neither of the Weasley brothers spoke. 

"This sounds familiar," he said at last, when he was certain he had the attention of both men. He kept his voice even and calm, knowing exactly how easily Bill could be riled up, as Charlie had just demonstrated. "I remember sitting in a pub with you two years ago, and you were angry then." He stopped fiddling and raised his eyes, locking on Bill's with quiet authority. "Are you still angry now?" 

Bill held his gaze for a long moment before slowly nodding. "Yes," he murmured. 

"Why?" 

Bill looked as though he was about to speak, opening his mouth and taking a breath, but then seemed to think better of it. His lips closed and his tongue moved out to lick them, running thoughtfully over his bottom lip as Remus watched him carefully, using all his discipline to keep his own emotion in check. "Because nothing's better," he said at last, leaning forward and laying flat palms on the table. "You used to tell me it would get better, didn't you?" 

Remus held his gaze, refusing to flinch. 

"But it hasn't," said Bill. "Yeah, I'm a dickhead," he added, "and I'm angry, and my wife chucked me out for being angry all the time, and she says I shouldn't be angry, and my mum says I shouldn't be angry, and oh, look here!" He gestured at Charlie. "Even my little brother says I shouldn't be angry, and of all the people who are supposed to understand, he really should come second, with that magical creature shite he's into–"

Charlie frowned, exhaling into his glass. 

"–but the person who should understand the _most_? Who knew me before and knew me after, the only other person who's been through this? He says I shouldn't be angry either." Bill wiped a hand over his mouth and sat back in his chair. "So that's it, yeah? I do what I can, and the lot of you can fuck yourselves." 

"I never said you shouldn't be angry," said Remus, his voice still struggling to remain calm in the face of Bill's words, when the wolf wanted nothing more than to pick a fight, to throw the challenger down to the ground for raising his voice and offering such aggression. "But you can't spend your life that way. It's like Marina says – you can be a wolf or a human, but you can't be both." He surprised himself with the words, since he'd dismissed Marina's theory at the time, but now it seemed to make an odd sort of sense. 

"Is that what Marina's saying now?" Bill smiled nastily, cocking his head at Charlie. "Well, well, well, we have an expert in the family, do we?" 

"Shut up, Bill," muttered Charlie. 

"No, no, let me think about this," continued Bill, leaning forward again. "It makes so much sense, really. I've been _choosing_ to behave like a wolf!" He barked a laugh. "How idiotic of me! Here, I'll just stop doing that, then, and _choose_ to behave like an upstanding citizen, a real _man_ like my brother here, how about that? God, I can't believe I've wasted so many years not being human! I'm an arse." He nodded wisely, taking a gulp of beer. 

"Leave Marina out of this," said Charlie quietly. "She wants what's best for you, okay? She's working extra hours trying to help you, you know, find out what's causing this." 

To Remus's surprise, Bill finally fell silent at that, his lips a tight line and the vein in his temple throbbing visibly. He ground his teeth together and took a few deep breaths, staring down at his hands. 

"I'm going to leave you two to catch up," said Remus after a pause, making to rise from his chair. 

"Sit down," said Bill quietly, not looking up, and Remus stilled. A small thrill went through his body at the simple words, and Remus fought against what he knew it was: the wolf recognised a challenge and demanded to respond. He relaxed into his chair as much as he could, clutching at the iron arms. 

"Excuse me?" he said in the same voice Bill had used, hard and quietly violent and laced with acid. 

Bill finally raised his eyes. "I said, _sit down_." He paused. "Stay awhile," he added, his voice softening. "We're mates, yeah, Charlie?" he turned to grin at his brother, who rolled his eyes and took another swig of beer. "No harm done. Tell me what you've been up to," he said to Remus, adding, "You and Snape, I mean." 

Hearing Severus's name come out of Bill's mouth was almost too much for Remus. Those were lips that should never curl around the syllables of Severus's name, a mouth that should not exist in the same universe as Severus at all. But mostly, hearing Bill issue him orders like that, even joking, was more than Remus could tolerate. He fought the urge to bare his teeth at Bill, to growl and tear at him, fighting him down to the ground and teaching him some manners. 

"No," he said instead. "Not tonight." 

Bill caught his eyes and his meaning, lips parting in disbelief and silent understanding as he stared at Remus, and before Remus tore his eyes away, he could have sworn he saw Bill's lips curl up in a smile. The bastard _wanted_ an alpha to give him orders, Remus guessed, inhaling a deep breath. Well, he'd have to keep looking at those clubs he'd been going to, because that wasn't Remus's job to fill, much as he might wish to. 

He turned to Charlie. "Thanks," he said with a smile, rising from his chair. "Good to see you." 

"Another time, Remus?" called Bill over his shoulder as Remus made his way to the exit, his voice full of amusement and desire, and Remus bent his head into his collar and shoved the door open, grateful for the chilly night air on his face. 

  


* * *

  


The basement of Marina's branch of the Institute wasn't the coldest, dampest, or most depressing space Remus had ever encountered, but it was close, and it reminded him why being away from London for a few years hadn't been so bad. The job was probably a terrible idea, but he hadn't found anything on his own in months and was tired of looking. Severus's position ensured that they didn't really need the money of two incomes, but there was Remus's intellectual health to consider. He had never been both unemployed _and_ without other meaningful tasks for so long in his life, and it was driving him around the bend. 

"So," Marina finished with a sigh, rattling the keys in her hand and gesturing around, "you see it is not so pretty, but it will do, I think. Let's start with some general dragon history, what do you think? I will have Fedja make up posters for the employees, get some children enrolled." She paused, tapping one finger against her lips. "Supplies," she muttered to herself. "Well, I will see what I can do. For now, see if they will bring some pencils from home. They can share them if they will be drawing pictures or something." She glanced up at Remus. "Pictures? Is this a normal thing to teach? How to draw a dragon?" She threw her hands up. "I have no idea." 

He smiled at her. "Yeah, it's normal," he said. "Maybe some pictures, maybe some games, maybe some reading. I'll see what I can do. Children are easy to please," he added. "It's the adults that take more finesse." 

"Ha!" Her eyes lit up, followed by a wide smile. "Yes! What to do with adults." She shook her head. "Especially the ones that behave like children. Speaking of which…"

Remus's smile faded. 

"…dinner tonight? Bill promised to stay, and Charlie is cooking." She grinned. "I need some back-up, you know? If there is conversation and he is distracted, maybe I can put some food under the table and he won't see." 

"That bad, huh?" 

"My God." She shook her head again. "But, I cannot complain, you know? Come. You and Severus. I cannot take Bill and Charlie together so much. Either playing Quidditch or arguing, this is all they do. It is insane." 

Remus let out a slow breath, leaning against one of the stone walls. "Why are they arguing so much?" he asked, despite knowing the answer. 

Marina frowned, fiddling with the keys. "Bill is a different man since the war," she said quietly. 

"Since becoming part werewolf," corrected Remus, and she shot him a look. 

"No," she insisted, "since the war. The two are not the same. I told you that before." She glared at him. "He is not a werewolf unless he wants to be." 

"Marina…" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I know you're trying to help him, but honestly, that attitude doesn't help at all. He _is_ a partial werewolf, and there are repercussions for that. It's just the way it is." 

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know, I have no idea what I'm talking about, I don't know what it's like, all of that. It's okay. I cannot explain it to you yet, but I will. Anyway, he wants to see you, this is what he says all the time, but maybe this is not such a good idea. You will only tell him it's okay, all of this, to run around and act like a beast." She arched an eyebrow at him in challenge, and he snorted back a laugh. 

"Okay," he agreed, suddenly realising why Charlie did as much nodding and smiling as he seemed to do around his wife. "I'll come to dinner, and I promise not to encourage any beastliness in Bill." 

But even as the words slipped off his tongue, they felt raw. The thought of Bill _running around and acting like a beast_ made his skin prickle and cool tension clutch at his spine, and for that split second, he was certain his desire must be written all over his face. Coughing and clearing his throat, he gave Marina a weak smile and gestured for her to precede him out of the basement. 

  


* * *

  


Dinner that night was unpleasant. 

Severus was bored, tired, and too easily incited to argue. Charlie was animated, opinionated, and too eager to provoke him. Marina mentioned _France_ every chance she got; Remus entertained himself with his own private drinking game every time someone mentioned dragons; and Bill – 

God, _Bill._

Bill sauntered to the table halfway through the soup course, dressed in dark trousers and a t-shirt with the logo of a Muggle pop band etched across the chest, red lips opening over the band name to reveal a blood red tongue. He pulled his chair out like a sullen child being punished, dropping into it and slumping back with his thighs spread wide and his fist gripping the spoon like it was a wand and he was doing battle with that bowl. 

He was Pure-blood arrogance and Weasley charm rolled into one, and for long minutes at a time, he reminded Remus painfully of other arrogant, Pure-blood boys he used to know, strutting around in Hobgoblins t-shirts and commanding every conversation they entered. But the thing about Bill was that he was no longer any posturing boy simply trying to impress his classmates. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it, or, if he didn't, he knew exactly how to fake it. 

Remus couldn't take his eyes off him. 

"Remind me again, Charlie: what was your grade on your Potions N.E.W.T.?" Severus's irate voice rose from the din at the table. 

Charlie pointed his fork. "I didn't take that N.E.W.T. and you know it, and that's not the point. If you'd ever _seen_ a Ridgeback tooth up close, you'd know…"

Remus reached for the wine. 

"Easy," Bill murmured to him, elbows resting on the table and his hands folded in front of his mouth. "Get too far into that stuff and someone might take advantage of you." 

He refilled his glass and replaced the bottle on the table before calmly raising his eyes to Bill's. He counted off three seconds. "Easy," he shot back. "Not enough of this stuff, and you might actually think you could try." 

Remus tore his eyes away from Bill's easy grin, daring to hope, when he turned to Severus and Charlie, that they might be talking about something other than potions or dragons. 

  


* * *

  


After they had all gagged down Charlie's idea of pudding and Remus had tried to dampen his wine-soaked headache with three cups of murky tea, he left Severus and Marina debating Ministry regulations on magical creature-based potions in England versus Eastern Europe, and Charlie and Bill arm wrestling over which one of them would Floo Molly for their weekly check-in with all things Weasley, and headed to the kitchen for a few minutes of quiet. 

He had just finished stacking the plates in the sink and setting a washing charm on the pots when he felt it: the hairs on the back on his neck stood up and a shiver ran down his spine. 

"Hi," Bill's voice said behind him, and it was the last thing he needed right now. There shouldn't have been such power in a voice, but every time it spoke Remus could think only of how close it had once been to him, too close, whispering invitations and urging infidelities and sliding right up under his skin like a sliver. 

He turned around. "Hi." He forced a smile, because there was no reason for this to be awkward, no reason for Bill to suspect he had any effect whatsoever on Remus's neck or spine or skin. 

But it _did_ get awkward; it had to, really, because Remus couldn't think of a single thing to say at that moment that didn't involve the words, _You look good_, or _God, you _smell_ good_, or _What am I doing here and how will I ever leave in one piece?_

"You, uh…" Bill paused, tilting his head to the side. "… need some help?" He nodded towards the sink. 

"I– no." Remus sank back against the counter, fingers clenched around the tiles behind him. 

Bill took a step towards him. "You seem tense," he said, a smirk on his lips. 

Remus bit back a laugh, shaking his head and glancing out the window, and before he knew what he was doing, he made the decision to just _end _this. "Do I?" he snapped, raising his eyes to Bill and pushing up from the counter to stand taller. "I wonder why." 

Bill paused in his step but didn't answer, his face curious and amused. He folded his arms over his chest and watched Remus expectantly. 

"Look," began Remus, "it's good to see you, and Charlie and everyone, and dinner was nice, and I'm glad to be back in the area and all of that, and, you know…" He paused. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Fleur, and Charlie says you're still having trouble with–" He stopped again, gesturing vaguely in front of his face and trying to impress that he meant _that whole half-werewolf thing_ with his facial expression rather than words, and this was really going swimmingly, but he forged ahead. "And so, yes, I'm sorry about that, but I don't think it's a good idea for you and I to see each other socially." 

Bill still looked terribly amused, and now he was not only tilting his head to the side as if to examine Remus as one would an odd extraterrestrial being, but he was licking his lips, and that, _that _was not on. "Socially," he repeated slowly. 

"Like…" Remus gestured again at the kitchen. "… this." 

Bill let the silence mount again before speaking. "This," he drawled, his eyes scanning the kitchen. "What are we doing in here, exactly, that's causing you such trouble?" He moved forward, and Remus gripped the counter top tighter. 

"Bill," he murmured, and the word was supposed to have much more strength and conviction behind it, but instead it came out as a breath, a plea, or both. Remus clenched his jaw. "We both know what happened before you went to France," he added. 

"What _didn't_ happen, you mean." 

"It _can't_ happen," insisted Remus, but Bill wasn't listening; Bill was still moving closer. He leaned casually against the counter next to Remus, his arm brushing Remus's and one hip, one _thigh_ only a breath away from him. 

"Sure, it can," he whispered, his mouth close to Remus's ear, and it took everything Remus had to lift his chin and look away, ignoring the jolt down his spine. "I told you before," Bill added, his breath hot on Remus's skin, "nobody has to know." 

The hot throb of sudden arousal hit him like a wave. 

"Just you and me." 

He swallowed, parting his lips for more air and unable to control the panting that followed. 

"Right now. Out back, meet me. Five minutes." 

Somehow Bill had manoeuvred himself even closer to Remus if that was possible, and the words at his ear had become lips on his neck – hungry lips that roved and devoured while Remus's mind tried to process the right syllables for _No_. 

He turned his head back to push Bill away but his lips had other ideas, and his hands had other ideas, and before he could stop himself he'd gripped Bill by the back of the neck and crushed their mouths together, with no finesse or romance or careful exploration, just brutal open mouths allowing for hot, invading tongues and teeth that bit at swollen lips. He exhaled a sharp gasp into Bill's mouth and felt rough fingers close around his bicep, hauling him forward even further as hips ground against his and the wolf in both of them roused with an inner _howl_. 

He felt two years of frustrated memory course through him, a torrent of _God yes now_ that he couldn't explain and couldn't control. He'd said _no_ two years ago and the agony of not knowing what it would have been like had eaten at him more than he'd cared to admit. But as his fingers scraped down the back of Bill's neck and his other hand curled into the waist of Bill's trousers, hauling him closer, Remus let himself fall hard into the here and now of knowing, finally, that _this is what it's like_.

Bill's tongue curled into his with more insistence, shoving him into the counter and lapping at him like he was a meal to be devoured, and that was it, that was the thing right there: Bill made him feel like _meat_, raw, bloodied meat to smear over his lips and down his chest and _God_, that was exactly what Bill felt like to him, too, and he knew the wolf too well by now, knew it would not be denied its desires without Herculean effort on Remus's part, and he tried to summon that effort, tried to find the strength to throw Bill off when he tasted so good and smelled so incredible and _felt_ like pure sex rubbing against him, but he couldn't do it, it was too much, he could only breathe in every drop of him and –

"Remus! Can you put the kettle on? The tea is cold out here." 

Marina's voice slammed through his consciousness, and with a gulp of breath, he pushed Bill away only seconds before she strode through the kitchen door. 

He instinctively turned away from her to wipe his mouth with his hand, hoping he didn't look nearly as unsettled and dishevelled as he felt, but of course, with Bill in the room, he needn't have worried. 

"Aw, Marina!" he drawled, his voice rough. "You interrupted a prime arm wrestling match. I almost had Remus pinned." 

Remus made the mistake of looking at him then, as Marina rolled her eyes and brushed past them to search for the tea leaves, and he found Bill's reddened lips turned up in a sly grin. 

"My God, these contests!" she said, shaking her head as she spooned more leaves into a new pot. 

Behind her back, Bill raised his index finger to his lips, gesturing for Remus to keep quiet with a silent _Shhh_.

"You know, Charlie used to be arm wrestling champion at the compound in Romania, and I thought, okay, if he is not around those guys so much, he will forget about it. But no. Of course not. There is always you to help him remember." She shook her head again sadly. "My God." 

Bill held Remus's gaze as Marina bustled around with the tea, the blue eyes piercing into him until he was forced to look away. 

Finally, she turned with the teapot and pointed a free finger at Bill. "We need your wife here, and not just for you!" she barked. "I will go mad without women in this house! Come on, the tea is hot. Remus, leave the dishes for later." She ordered them back out to the dining room, still muttering under her breath, "Arm wrestling. _Honestly_."

  


* * *

  


Dinner with various Weasleys became if not a regular occurrence, then at least an event that occurred often enough to grate on Remus. He was happy to meet Charlie for a pint or even just a cup of tea when he wasn't on one of his Romania-rotation weeks, but Charlie invariably led to Bill, who had a habit of showing up when Remus least expected or desired it. 

Well. _Desire _was precisely the problem, which was why Remus did his best to avoid the man completely. 

But being relatively new to the area and not really knowing anyone but the former and present inhabitants of the Burrow, avoiding Bill was increasingly difficult. The upside, Remus supposed, was that Severus seemed to have shrugged off his usual penchant for courting disaster in social situations, and had grown so fond of Marina that _he_ would even suggest dinner or drinks with her and Charlie. Remus couldn't quite summon the effort to decide on an opinion of her one way or another, really; she was clever and very quick, that was certain, and watching Charlie's face light up when she entered a room was almost enough to reinstate Remus's wavering belief in the powers of true love, but at the end of the day, she was also a bit annoying. 

He didn't quite trust her, but he couldn't put his finger on why. No matter: the wolf had impeccable intuition. If he felt something was off about her, it probably was. 

But he was grateful for the job she'd provided him, and she did not really interfere with his classroom techniques, and so he decided it wasn't his place to complain. He was happy that Severus had a friend and colleague, especially since Remus could not sit and talk about dragon potions with him any longer without wanting to stab himself through the eyeballs from boredom. They saw Arthur and Molly occasionally, and the other nearby Weasleys and sometimes, by proxy, their friends, but Charlie and Marina became their most frequent companions. 

And Bill, of course, who slept in their guest house and wandered in and out of their dinners and pub nights and arm wrestling matches with the nonchalance of a rogue teenager. Remus could never forget about Bill. 

  


* * *

  


"I'm going to Zurich in the morning." 

Remus looked up from his tattered copy of _Horace the Horntail Goes to School_, pausing to wipe a crumb off his lesson plan. "All right." He shrugged. "Conference?" 

"Data collection." Severus pulled out a nearby chair and sat, casting an amused glance at Remus's books. "Goes to _school_?" he said, eyebrow raised. "Is this what you're teaching the children of Europe's finest magical biologists, that they can expect to share a train compartment with a pre-pubescent Horntail?" 

"Train compartment? Oh no," said Remus, not missing a beat. "First they have to go into the Forest and _find_ a Horntail, tame it, toss a saddle on, and _ride_ it to school. Much more challenging. For the children of Europe's finest magical biologists," he added, narrowing his eyes. "Nothing but the best." 

Severus snorted, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. "And so intellectually challenging for _you_, as well, I imagine." 

Remus dropped his head, mashing his lips together and silently counting to five. "Data collection," he bit out after the pause, refusing to rise to Severus's usual bait. "Of what?" 

"Werewolves." Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Marina and I are beginning work on a new project, a joint effort between our laboratories. Putting some of her theories to the test, so to speak." 

"Not that rubbish from dinner last month?" Remus rolled his eyes. 

"Parts of it, yes." 

"You won't find whatever it is she's looking for," said Remus, closing his book. "All the tests have been done already. We know more about werewolves than any other creature; why chase empty theories, when you could be… I don't know." He looked around the room. "Trying to find ways to add sugar to the Wolfsbane, or something." He gave Severus a weak smile. 

"There's not really any challenge in that," said Severus. "We already know it doesn't work. But this…" He stared at Remus for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. "This might actually lead to something. Something that would make your life easier," he added, his gaze softening. 

"My life's quite all right the way it is." 

"Ah. Is it, now?" 

"Mm." 

Severus leaned forward, brushing his lips over Remus's and letting his hand trail through his hair to slide down the back of his neck. Remus tilted his head to the side and parted his lips, breathing in the scent of _Severus_ and _safety_ and _home_ and all the things kissing Severus evoked. He felt his body tighten as the soft lips moved against his, warming him, until the memory of another mouth on his assaulted his mind, bruising his lips and stealing his breath. 

He pulled back from Severus with a surprised gasp, smiling quickly to mask his actions. "Mm," he breathed again. "Not leaving till the morning, then?" 

Severus ran the edge of his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyeing Remus before nodding. 

"Come on, then," said Remus, rising and grabbing his arm. He hauled him out of the study and upstairs to their bedroom, settling between his legs five minutes later and doing everything he could to let Severus's low groans of pleasure push the image of Bill's swollen lips out of his mind. 

  


* * *

  


Severus was in Zurich, then, the night it finally happened. 

For years after, Remus wouldn't be able to think of _Zurich_ without his throat tensing up and pins prickling at his fingertips, because Zurich ruined everything. Zurich took Severus away right when Remus needed him most. _Zurich_ gave him an awfully convenient place to lay the blame when the relationship Remus had fought so hard to establish during the war, and struggled to maintain long after the spies returned home, finally lurched and crumbled to dust at his feet. 

All because of Zurich. And one last, fateful dinner. 

  


* * *

  


The Weasley table was as animated as usual, with Charlie talking about Quidditch and the latest Fireball births back at the compound; Marina shoving food Remus couldn't recognise down his throat; and Bill sauntering in just before pudding to down a glass of wine and listen sullenly, cheek resting in one fist, as Charlie recounted last season's Chudley Cannons statistics for them. 

"Come on," Bill said to Remus as Marina cleared the plates, jerking his head towards the back door. He glanced back at Charlie. "Got to show Remus that, uh, amulet I got back in Egypt." He scratched at his jaw. "For the moon, remember? Makes it a bit better." 

Charlie yawned and waved a hand at them, uninterested. "Yeah, sure. I'm fucking knackered. Got to be back on the compound tomorrow morning. That distance-Apparition shite's going to knock me out one of these days." He slung an arm around Marina's neck as she appeared in the door, marching a stack of plates in front of her with her wand, and she gave a shout of surprise before laughing and turning to burrow her face in his chest. 

"Hey, where are you going?" she called after them, and Bill turned to her with a wink. 

"Wolf stuff," he said, and Remus felt as though all the remaining blood in his body had pooled low in his belly, stiffening his cock and making his head swim. 

"Ah, of course." She rolled her eyes. "Good night," she said to Remus with a smile as Charlie pulled her with him into the kitchen, kissing her temple. 

"Yeah, thanks for dinner," said Remus, not terribly keen on following Bill anywhere, but similarly lacking the interest to stay and chat about Quidditch any longer. 

_Wolf stuff_.

"Is there an amulet?" asked Remus, once they had rounded the lane to the guest house and were out of Charlie and Marina's sight. 

"Sure." 

"Does it have anything to do with the moon?" 

"The moon? Nah." Bill folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. "It's not bad against vampires, though." 

That did it. "Stop it," Remus bit out. He was too old for these games and lacked the patience to try. "I don't like you," he said quietly, "I don't trust you, and you're really starting to piss me off." 

Bill's mouth fell open for a second before curving into a slow smile. "Am I?" he drawled. 

"You're not a werewolf looking for help," said Remus. "You're just a bloke looking for a fuck." 

Bill watched him carefully. 

"And I'm not the person to help you with that," he finished lamely, feeling the weight of Bill's eyes on him. 

Slowly, Bill backed up against the wall of the cottage and spread himself out, his arms and legs wide. His face hardened and Remus watched his breath quicken. "What if I'm a werewolf looking for a fuck?" he asked, his voice low. His eyes flicked up to the sky and Remus followed, watching a cloud shift to reveal a perfect three-quarter moon in the sky. "Don't tell me you can't feel it," he added, "'round this time." 

"I feel it," admitted Remus, stepping closer to Bill. "And I can do all the fucking I need at home." He felt his tongue thicken in his mouth as he tried to lick his lips, the warmth of Bill's body apparent even from three feet away. 

"Ah." Bill tilted his head to the side. "Sure. He doesn't get it though, does he? Not when the moon's like this." His eyes flickered to the sky again before landing back on Remus, fiery and desperate, and he pushed away from the wall and took a step forward. "He doesn't get what you need." 

And before Remus knew it, there were lips on his neck and a hot hand around his cock, shoving into his waistband and just grabbing, taking, _pulling_ at what wasn't Remus's to give, until the gasps turned to groans and the rough, dry friction sent jolts of pleasure to the bottoms of his feet. 

"Fuck you," he muttered, his hands clenched in Bill's shirt as his head tilted back to better feel the chafed lips scratching his throat. "You can't– fuck– just–" But it was too late, it didn't matter, Bill was biting at his neck and moving down his chest and pulling his shirt off as he went, that one hand still curled cruelly over Remus's prick, and he was hard, he was desperate, he felt the blood fill his cock and suddenly wanted Bill to see how angry and red it was, to see every bit of evidence of what Bill had done. 

"Stop talking," Bill growled against his chest, biting and licking. "Stop thinking." 

That did it; now Remus was angry. He didn't want this at all, except for all the ways he wanted nothing _but_ this, and right now those ways were winning out. He shoved Bill off and whirled him around, pushing him up against the cold wall and locking his forearm across the back of Bill's neck. "Shut up," he whispered fiercely, and he could sense the shiver that ran through Bill's body. "This what you want? This worth your fucking marriage?" 

Bill struggled at that, trying to free himself from the wall and jerking his elbows back into Remus's stomach, but Remus was stronger. He always had been. He fumbled with their trousers for a second and then realised he couldn't fuck at that angle and hadn't the patience to try, so he pulled Bill around again to face him, clapping a hand over his mouth and shoving their trousers down. 

The three-quarter moon shone down like a cruel cliché as Remus fished out Bill's cock and mashed it against his own, clenching his fist around both of them and anchoring his legs into the stiff cement to keep from tumbling over from the sensations racing through his body. He was too hot; he couldn't breathe; he was desperate and aroused and riddled with guilt and shame, but it was too late, it was _too late_, and Bill was still growling like that in his ear, rough and low and just what the wolf craved. 

The wolf had conquered Severus a long time ago. It demanded a new challenge, and the virile, swaggering half-wolf pressed up against this wall would do nicely. Remus felt all rational thought slide away, out of his grasp, and he let himself savour the sensations of his body, fisting Bill's cock and almost whimpering at the feel of slick flesh pushed up against his own, a hard length of werewolf cock sliding against his, both of them stiff and angry and pulsing, pulsing. 

Bill scraped one hand down the wall behind him and one hand down Remus's chest when he came, thick wetness coating Remus's hand and prick and sending him over the edge, spiralling out into black and pleasure and hot and wet and _pure, fucking magic_, and it was the wolf, it had to be the wolf, because nothing had ever felt this aching and this good. He heard the deep rumble rise up from his chest as he slumped forward, his hand dripping and his heart pounding and the scent of Bill's come still driving him mad. 

Bill was still panting too, small shudders rippling through him and into Remus's skin, and at that moment the world paused, as if the gods had stopped to turn and look at them, raising their eyebrows in disapproval but lacking the power to say anything against them. The image reminded Remus so strongly of Severus that he almost slid down to his knees and bent over to retch or weep, but he breathed hard and fought to keep control of himself, and to right a situation that couldn't be more _wrong_.

"Shit," Bill murmured, a low laugh on his lips, and when Remus finally pulled his head back and lifted his stained hand, Bill was biting his lower lip and smirking, eyes dark and hooded, and he suddenly understood that this hadn't been enough, hadn't been as cataclysmic for Bill as it had been for Remus, and that Bill wanted _more_. Remus backed away slowly, pulling his trousers up and shaking his head back and forth. _No no no no no_.

He turned to walk away, determined not to say another word, not to make a scene or push for any sort of sickening discussions that would force him to replay what had just happened in gory, analytic detail, but Bill grabbed his arm and dug his fingers into Remus's flesh. 

"Not yet," said Bill, the fingers pressing deeper. "I'm still hard, Remus, and I know you are, too." 

That wasn't true; he wasn't, but given five minutes he knew he could be, and if he'd fucked Severus all night long before, there was no reason he couldn't do the same to Bill, who smelled like torn-up grass and charred wood and the open, pulsing freedom of the hunt, but God, _no_, he couldn't. 

"How long since you last let the wolf out to play?" Bill teased, licking the shell of Remus's ear and pressing up against him. His cock_ was_ hard again, Remus could feel it shoving into his hip, and it made his blood heat. "I can take it, you know. I _want_ to take it. Hard as you can give it." 

And he was nearly forty years old but Bill was right, he was getting hard again, he felt the blood move faster in his body, pushing his cock up and stretching the skin of it with a stiff, aching desire that wouldn't leave him alone. _Hard as you can give it_. God, that was tempting, because it was a cliché with Severus by now; it didn't interest him; he'd become bored with the wolf. He'd still lie down and spread his legs for Remus; he'd even cajole until the fucking turned hard and desperate, but Remus had seen Severus's face at those moments, the way thin lines creased his brow and thin lips mashed together and he merely tolerated what Remus wanted him to _beg for_.

Bill was begging, and so nicely, at that. Remus glanced down at the muddy lawn and a thrill shot through him. He turned, leaning into Bill's touch. 

"Here?" he muttered, and he barely recognised the voice as his own. "On your hands and knees in the grass, is that what you want?" 

Bill grinned, leaning in to bite at Remus's neck. "Yeah," he moaned, "but I'm going to fight you for it, you know that." 

And that was it, that was the end, he was done for, because Severus would never understand that about the wolf, the need to fight and bite and dominate and shove and _force_, but Bill understood it, and Remus had repressed the urge for so long, he couldn't turn down this chance. He just couldn't. The wolf was in charge now, and the wolf demanded to _fuck_.

The Silencing charm was almost an afterthought, cast as the last of Remus's rational mind bled away and he gripped Bill's shoulders and hauled him down to the ground. The partial moon shone over the writhing bodies and the wind disguised the rough groans and harsh bites and jagged slide of skin as two wolves tangled, blood thrumming and hearts racing, and the thrill of the hunt, of _prey_, made them lose themselves in the scratching grass and sate every manner of their desires until the sun rose. 

  


* * *

  


**Part 3:**

The transformation that month was liberating in ways it hadn't been in years. 

Remus felt younger: his skin was smooth and his senses sharp. Even his eyesight seemed clearer. It would be folly to credit Bill with any of it, he knew that, but he couldn't help but wonder if pushing his cock into another writhing, groaning man with werewolf blood in his veins hadn't satisfied his own inner wolf in ways he'd never imagined. 

Severus had returned from Zurich with his usual assortment of test tubes and blood samples and magically condensed cases of bone, tissue and instruments, flinging his own small trunk just inside the blue door and giving Remus not quite a wave, but a general gesturing of his hand, before returning to his laboratory. Remus found he barely cared. He downed the vial of stored Wolfsbane that week and when the full moon came, he spread himself out on the hearth rug in the basement, focusing his energies on the distracting memory of Bill's back muscles tensing underneath him, the cords of his neck straining with each thrust into his body, and the sounds falling from his lips as Remus rode him. 

The wolf yawned and snarled, restless thoughts stabbing at its mind and fiery urges rising in its body, and when he awoke in the morning, Remus decided that the next month, he would simply have to fuck just a little bit harder and a little more often to truly sate the beast. 

  


* * *

  


"How's work?" 

"Are you asking because you're interested, or because you think we need to make small talk over breakfast?" 

"I'm interested." 

"Well, you should be, because 'work' is fine. It has a great deal to do with you, I might add." 

"You stare at werewolf blood under microscopic spells all day, Severus. I should hope it has something to do with me." 

"Should you?" 

"I should, and I do." 

"Mm." 

"Toss me the jam." 

"Must you use the same knife as the butter? Honestly, Lupin. A person should choose jam or butter, not both." 

"Should a person?" 

"I just said so." 

"That's quite a strong opinion." 

"Yes, it is. I've had many years to formulate it." 

"And many butter-infested jam jars in your sordid past?" 

"Just so. In fact, if I finish my charts this morning, I might have time to draw up a new clause for the Ministry to look at." 

"On this issue?" 

"I believe it should be legislated." 

"To prevent cretins like me from ever again dipping a butter knife in jam?" 

"When my legislation is passed, Lupin, you and your butter knife ways shall no longer taint my jam." 

"Lovely. Severus?" 

"Mm?" 

"There are still quite a few crimes the Ministry could bring me in for, you understand, before they'd bother with the butter knife issue. Don't look at me like that." 

"Thank you, Lupin. And they say _I'm_ the one with no sense of humour." 

"I'm serious." 

"How many times must we go through this? You stand no more chance of being arrested than I do anymore. It's over." 

But that wasn't quite right, Remus thought as he cleared the dishes and Severus gathered his cloak and cases, because soldiers trained in wars never knew when it was time to stop fighting, even after all the amnesties and pardons and declarations of peace. Severus wouldn't admit it, but Remus knew they both still had too much thirst for battle left in them. 

  


* * *

  


The other thing about the blue door, Remus soon discovered, was that regardless of its foolish colour, it simply had a bottom hinge that could wake a dead man when opened with the wrong degree of care. He learned to manipulate it as best he could, especially during the evenings Severus was home – poring over a stack of parchment in the study or writing up the next day's instructions for his staff over tea in the kitchen. It wasn't that Remus was sneaking out, exactly; he was an adult with appointments to keep and friends of his own to meet with. But _he_ knew where he was going and what he was doing, even if Severus did not, and somehow that made the sound of the creaking hinge all the sharper to his ear, like a Howler screaming to the world about just what Remus had been doing, and how much the door disapproved. 

  


* * *

  


The club throbbed with energy, jolts of light piercing the blackness like hexes and curses in the night sky. It could have been a battle zone, Remus couldn't help but think, an open field where wizard met wizard in hand-to-hand combat and came away gasping and bleeding, unsure of which side had won. 

The place was Muggle through and through, but after another five minutes there, Remus wasn't sure the metaphor didn't apply after all. 

Sweat rose in the air in a thick fog from the throng of pulsing bodies, pressing against each other in a slick slide of cock and arse and breast and smooth expanse of stomach. Gender didn't matter, costume didn't matter, make-up didn't matter. There were all kinds. The only requirement of Prague 5 seemed to be a willingness to touch and be touched, to rub the flesh of strangers as the music sank in deep, vibrating just under his skin and quivering in the tips of his fingers, which themselves were wandering, tasting, floating up and down nearby bodies as other fingers did the same to him. 

It was the perfect place to forget oneself entirely, to let nothing but basic sensory desires rule one's decisions and actions, and Remus could see why Bill came here nearly every night, moving with the crowd and drinking in the lack of consequences. 

Bill gripped his hand as they allowed the mass of bodies to swallow them up. His shirt was already open, hanging loose over his hips and exposing the hieroglyphic tattoos across his chest, and Remus pressed up against him instinctively, a growl building in his throat at the contact. He grabbed Bill's hips and locked his fingers in the waist of his trousers, grinding hard as nipples brushed his and hot lips moved over his neck. 

"You like this," Bill said in his ear, his voice low and hard, and Remus tilted his head back as they moved with the crowd and the music. 

"Isn't that why we're here?" Remus didn't want to talk. Talking was for later, or maybe never. 

"Yeah. And 'cause it's the only place to get some fucking privacy, with my brother following us around all the time." 

"Privacy." Remus laughed, husky against Bill's neck as his mouth moved up to Bill's ear and bit down, just as a stray hand slid across his arse and he felt breasts against his back. "Imagine that." 

"Unless you want to take me to that house of yours," said Bill with a laugh, his voice loud and rough over the music. "Send your old man to bed and fuck me over the kitchen table, that what you want?" 

Remus had his fist curled in the fabric of Bill's shirt before he could stop himself, yanking him through the crowd towards a back wall. He threw Bill against it and brought his other hand up to close around Bill's throat. "You mention him again," he warned, his fingers tightening, "and you won't walk tomorrow." 

"Maybe that's what I want," whispered Bill, the words barely audible over the music, and Remus's cock thickened in his trousers. 

"Then you mention him again," Remus repeated, "and I'm leaving." He glanced behind him as his thumb pressed into Bill's cheek and his fingers dug into his jaw. "Get one of these to fuck you. Worked before, didn't it?" He felt Bill's cock jerk against his hip and nearly relented under the weight of Bill's desperate eyes. 

"No," he murmured. "It didn't work, and you know it didn't work, because they don't get it." He pushed forward, grabbing Remus's hips and pressing against him. "You get it." 

Remus allowed it for a second, letting the sensation of Bill's cock against his own heat his blood, before moving his hand from Bill's throat to his shoulder and shoving him down to his knees. "What do I get?" he snapped, tearing his trousers open. 

Bill's hands were everywhere, yanking at his trousers and scratching down his hips, and his mouth followed. Remus shoved his pants down far enough to dig his cock out and push it against Bill's lips, smearing the tip against the red flush of his mouth and watching Bill's tongue push past his lips and onto Remus's cock. It was hot and damp, saliva and quiet pressure coating him, and he leaned into the wall to hold himself up with one hand while the other gripped the back of Bill's neck. 

"You _get it_," Bill breathed again before opening his mouth and taking Remus in, and Remus watched from above with his head spinning and his heart pounding, the music seeping under his skin and his free hand shoving Bill's head in harder. He felt teeth and chafed lips and throat muscles swallowing, drinking his prick down like it was fucking honey, and a growl erupted in his chest, his mind falling blank and any other life he might have known before this bleeding out of him. 

There was nothing but _this_, no other pleasure his body understood; he was a slave to the desires of the wolf, that much he knew, but _God_, it had been too long with the same pack, the same prey, the same mouth around him not pushing hard enough or swallowing deep enough. Bill was right: he did get it, and Bill _got it_, and fuck, it was just too difficult _not_ to do this, when it was right in front of him, red-lipped and panting for his cock. 

His orgasm shot through him and acting on what instinct he didn't know, he dropped a hand to his dick and pulled back, shooting come over Bill's face and neck. Bill closed his eyes and parted his lips, breathing hard and groaning as he tilted his face up. Remus's legs shuddered and he fell against the wall, reaching down to wipe the mess off Bill's cheek. Bill caught him around the wrist and stilled his hand, dragging his tongue over Remus's palm and wiping the rest on the tail of Remus's shirt, and as the pounding music receded in his consciousness, Remus curled his free hand into the stone wall and relished the first sense he'd had in a long time that at last, the wolf was satisfied. 

  


* * *

  


They stayed at the club a while longer after that, kissing and groping and biting at each other on the outskirts of the crowd, because Bill had been right, Remus _did_ like it there, with an audience like a submissive pack watching his every move and wishing he'd pay them the same attentions he paid to Bill. Exhausted, limp at last and half-drunk, they threaded their way through the crowd and out into the sharp street air at who knew what time, Apparating back to Charlie and Marina's house and stumbling through the back door, making as much noise as they could while convincing themselves they were being quiet. 

They should have gone straight to Bill's cottage around back, bypassing the house altogether, but Bill insisted on pilfering food from Charlie's kitchen first. Remus followed without thinking, too busy feeling invincible and thoroughly well-fucked to care. 

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" 

The voice stopped them both dead and they looked up, arms slung over each other's shoulders and their clothes hanging off them in various levels of disarray, to see Charlie perched at the kitchen table, glaring at them. 

Bill unwound himself from Remus and gave him an eye-roll before turning back to Charlie. "You're up early, little brother," he said with a grin. 

"Funny," Charlie shot back. "That's funny. You want to go Floo Snape and tell him where the fuck Remus's been all night, then?" 

Remus's stomach turned over. "He was at the lab," he said angrily, lifting his chin. "What does he care?" 

Charlie stood up. "He was at the lab till _eight_, you dickhead, not four a.m." 

Remus pushed down his surprise and instinctive anger at the insult and glanced at the clock on the wall, wincing. "I'm not a child," he said. "We went out. That's all he needs to know." 

Charlie stared at him, his mouth gaping and his eyes darting between Remus and Bill. "That's all he needs to know? What the fuck is the matter with you?" 

"What, you think he wanted to come?" Bill said with a lazy smirk, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the kitchen counter. 

"Shut the fuck up," snapped Charlie, pointing a finger at him. "No, I don't think that. He was fucking worried, you stupid fuck! Over here half the night pacing up and down the hallway." 

Bill rolled his eyes again. 

"And what was I supposed to tell him? That you went out for a pint? _All fucking night_? He's fucked in the head, Bill. You try talking sense to a screaming nutjob who spied for fucking Voldemort, all right? Couldn't convince him Remus wasn't dead somewhere." 

Remus stared. "Why the hell would he think I was dead?" 

"I don't know," Charlie continued, whirling on Remus, "but get your head out of your arse, would you? What are you, eighteen now, coming in drunk at four a.m.? What the _fuck?_" Charlie threw his hands in the air, his face incredulous. 

"God, you sound like mum," Bill spat. "I was thirty years old and she'd still talk to me like that. Fuck off, Charlie." He pushed himself away from the counter and grabbed Remus by the arm, steering him back towards the door and letting his hand slide over Remus's shoulders and up the back of his neck, an electric touch that made Remus's blood throb. He reached for the door handle, not even caring where they were going or what Charlie would think, wanting only to get Bill outside and shove him down in the grass, pinning his arms behind his back and driving into him. 

"Oh my God," he heard Charlie whisper, and his hand stilled at the next angry words. "Are you two _fucking_?"

"Shut up, Charlie," Bill warned as he dropped his hand from Remus's back. 

"Oh, no. No fucking way. You are not serious. You are _not_–"

Bill pushed Remus aside and charged across the room, grabbing Charlie by the scrap of his t-shirt and shoving him back into the chair. "Go upstairs and fuck your wife," he bit out, "and keep your fucking cock out of other people's fucking business." 

"I'd say the same to you," spat Charlie, pushing Bill off and standing up again. "Your wife know what you're up to?" 

"_My_ wife won't fuck!" shouted Bill, his face flushed and his mouth set in a grim line. "So, you know what? It's not your fucking business what I do about that." 

Backed against the door, Remus watched the scene with slowly growing horror, the music from the club finally gathering into a headache that pounded behind his eyes, giving him alternating visions of Bill on his knees with his face covered in come, and Severus pacing Charlie's hallway, convinced Remus had been captured by some lone veteran of Greyback's army. His hands shook. 

"Not in my house," Charlie said quietly, his hands in fists at his sides. "Not when _I_ have to fucking deal with his old man while you're off–" He paused, his face twisting into a scowl, before turning and heading for the kitchen door, shaking his head. He stopped at the door, head bowed and nostrils flaring, before raising his eyes to Remus. "He's married," he said coldly, "and you're… whatever you are." He took a deep breath. "Maybe his wife won't fuck, but yours… that man'd lay down in front of the Killing Curse for you, you know that? Do you even _know_ what he's doing at that lab? Do you have any fucking clue?" 

"Charlie…" began Remus. 

"No!" barked Charlie, pushing the door open and lowering his voice to a fierce whisper. "You better hope Marina never finds out about this, because she'd tear you up even worse than Snape would, after all the work they've done for you. Fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath. 

The door slammed shut behind him, and Remus let out the breath he'd been holding. Instead of looking back at him, Bill only flattened his palms against the kitchen table and leaned over, his head hanging between his shoulders and his back curved with the weight of the world. Not knowing what else to do or say, Remus slipped out the door to the garden and Apparated back home. 

  


* * *

  


He found Severus sitting in the kitchen in the dark, fully clothed at the empty table, not a trace of food or drink in front of him. The windows were too high to let in much of the growing light from outside, so the room felt thick with shadow. He crept in, careful not to stub his toe on an errant chair or trip over the small ladder near the fridge, and pulled out a chair next to Severus. 

They sat in silence for a long minute before Remus finally found the courage to speak. "I'm not dead," he said quietly, "and were I to find myself in a situation which could, in theory, result in my death, I do like to think I have the skills and wit to put up a hell of a fight, so you really needn't worry about me like this." 

Severus neither moved nor responded. If not for the quiet huffs of breath in the otherwise silent room, Remus might have thought the figure before him was the corpse. 

The sights and sounds and smells of the club filled his mind for a split second, white noise fogging his senses, and Severus wavered before him like a distant figure on a hot day. He pushed it all down, shoving the memory of Bill aside and urging his mind to forget the sight of Bill kneeling before him with his cock out and his lips parted, and focus only on Severus. Bill was transient, he knew that. Bill was late nights and furtive gropes and desperate claws down his back, but Severus was the solid black robe that sat like a tombstone in his kitchen, waiting all night, all year, _forever_ if he had to, for Remus to come back home. 

He reached out a hand and traced Severus's cheek, tangling his fingers in stark black hair and brushing a thumb over his jaw. _I'm sorry_, he wanted to say, and _None of this is real_, and _You're the one_. But he said nothing, only touching Severus's face softly in the darkness. 

For five seconds, then ten, they sat together with Remus's fingers brushing over Severus's warm skin, and Remus let his guard down, relaxing into the touch and assuring himself that it was enough, that he was forgiven. 

But on the eleventh second, a hand darted out and grasped his wrist, wrenching it from Severus's face at an awkward angle and pinning it to the table. Remus grit his teeth and stifled a pained groan, his peace shattered. He heard Severus's breathing speed up as fingers curled into his wrist. Severus rose from the table and leaned over him, putting all his weight and surely a touch of magic besides into flattening Remus's arm, the wood of the table digging into him. 

"You're not dead," Severus said at last, his voice low and harsh in the still kitchen air. "If that is the only attribute you have to offer at the moment, Lupin, then it is nothing to be proud of." 

With a final wrench of his hand into Remus's arm, Severus strode from the kitchen, the door slamming behind him. 

  


* * *

  


The dinner parties stopped after that, and Charlie's head no longer popped up in the Floo at random intervals, looking for a companion for darts or a pint or anything else he might have come up with. 

Remus was certain that Severus noticed this drop in social activity. Hell, he already suspected Remus of sleeping with Charlie, so as far as Remus figured, the stupid bastard had probably already chalked Charlie's distance up to a lovers' spat. He ground his teeth together at the very thought of Severus's potential suspicions. He was fucking around on a man he'd made a commitment to, and no, he wasn't proud of it, but so long as he didn't think about it too hard, he was pleasantly surprised to find the guilt was minimal. 

At least, that's what he told himself. The problem, of course, was not thinking about it too hard. 

But Bill was never far from his mind. Even while taking the register in his classes, his mind would flash to the smell of Bill's skin underneath him; even while mindlessly eating his lunch, he would be overcome with the memory of how Bill's rune tattoos tasted under his tongue; even crawling into bed with Severus at night (well, the nights he wasn't working late), Remus could barely feel heated skin next to his without thinking of the way the sweat beaded on Bill's back as Remus fucked him. 

  


* * *

  


The blue door knew something; Remus was sure of it. One could never be too careful in the Wizarding world, after all. Their house wasn't specifically a magical house, not the way Grimmauld Place had been, but Remus could nevertheless swear that the door slammed too hard behind him most days, or tried to trap his fingers in the hinge, or whispered to his back that next time, it wouldn't let him in at all. 

One cold night in the autumn, Remus set out to meet Bill with a new feeling of unease, his first inclination that maybe the heady rush of danger and risk had worn off, and that all he had left was his image in the mirror: an aged, insecure werewolf with too much time on his hands and too little courage to address the real problems in his life – everything that the fucking was attempting to mask. By the time he'd made up his mind to turn back, however, the blue door had shut behind him with a _click_ of finality, and he figured that one more occasion of lying in the bed he'd made wouldn't really do any harm. 

He was wrong, of course, but that was nothing new. 

  


* * *

  


He returned early that night, or earlier than usual, at least. The clock had not yet struck twelve, and the taste of Bill in his mouth was bitter this time, as though he'd torn into a box of chocolates so urgently and without thought of consequence that only after devouring every one did he realise they were laced with poison. He saw the light on in the study and walked towards it, stopping in the doorway. 

Severus was bathed in shadow, hunched over his desk as though in a black cocoon, his hair falling around his face and his dark robe shaded with streaks of moonlight. 

Remus clicked the door shut quietly behind him and stood with his back pressed to it, the knob still tight in his hands behind him. "You're up late," he murmured, having rather said nothing but lacking the strength to wait Severus out. 

Severus raised his head slowly, fixing his eyes on Remus as he set down his quill. "Marina was here," he said by way of explanation, and without warning, a cold trickle began in Remus's stomach. He pushed it down and refused to examine it, but he still knew that it had more to do with Marina spending time with Severus than it did with any concern about her gleaning his secret. 

"Awfully late for that," he ventured, and Severus did not answer right away. He studied Remus like he did his vials and cauldrons and bubbling substances, like something to be tampered with, or stirred just so. 

After a long pause, he said, "For what, precisely?" 

Remus scratched at his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. "For…" he gestured with his hand. "… whatever you were doing. Business, I suppose?" 

"Yes," said Severus, his words slow and quiet, "I suppose. Or were you asking if I was seeking pleasure?" 

Remus swallowed, his fingers curling in the memory of Bill's body underneath him, the way hard flesh had bruised and blood had run hot under his touch. "No," he said, clearing his throat. "I wasn't asking that." 

"She's an attractive woman," said Severus suddenly. "Clever. Really biting wit. Seems to have picked up the finer points of English sarcasm with ease, yet still hasn't mastered short vowel sounds. I like her," he added, as if that hadn't been clear. "We've been working together quite closely, you know. Perhaps I didn't tell you that." 

Remus stared at him. "No, perhaps you didn't," he said slowly, "but Charlie did, so I knew that, and– what are you talking about?" he blurted. "Are you sleeping with her, is that what you're trying to tell me?" A knot of rage filled his chest, and it was irrational, _insane_ even, but he couldn't iron it out. He parted his lips to suck in air through his mouth as the very thought of it overwhelmed him. 

Severus's calm didn't waver. "And if I was? I've been unfaithful to you before," he added, "and you to me." The words hung between them and Remus could only stare, his heart pounding. This was madness; there was no way he could know. 

"That's not the same," he whispered. 

"It certainly is. Or, excuse me, did a few impromptu phrases of commitment uttered in bed one night when we were both too delirious with orgasm to be thinking straight change that for you? Do we not _do that_ anymore?" 

"Stop it," Remus snapped, his breath quickening and both panic and guilt beginning to cloud his mind. "You're not shagging Marina." 

"No?" 

"Watch her with her husband for two seconds – that tells you anything you need to know about her. Try all you like; she won't have you." 

Severus was silent. Heartbeats passed with neither of them speaking, and Remus replayed the conversation in his head to try to figure out what they were even talking about – and what Severus knew. He fought against the anxiety welling up in his chest. Marina couldn't know; she couldn't have told Severus anything. Charlie would have made sure of that. He'd as much as said he would keep their secret. 

_Charlie doesn't owe you anything_.

Remus felt nauseous at the thought as he watched Severus turn to the window, offering a profile lit with a blue tinge from outside, his nose as large and cumbersome as ever, his cheek sharp, and his jaw jutting. Despite the smell of Bill still fresh on his skin, Remus fought the urge to cross over to Severus at that moment and kneel before him, pressing his forehead to Severus's knee and begging forgiveness. 

He jerked a thumb back towards the stairs. "I'm– off to bed," he said stiffly, turning to go. He'd left the study and was halfway up the neighbouring staircase before he heard Severus's voice behind him. 

"It's bad, isn't it?" he said quietly, and Remus turned. "Much worse than you've ever told me." 

"What is?" 

"The wolf." 

Remus let out a slow breath. "It's… yes." He straightened. "I guess it _is_ worse than I've told you." 

Severus nodded in resignation, beams of blue light sweeping his face and all the fire of their earlier conversation dying in the downturn of his mouth. "I wish you'd told me," he murmured, and Remus's face crumpled, his hand gripping the banister until his knuckles paled. 

"I wish for a lot of things," said Remus, "but it's too late for any of them now, isn't it?" 

Severus nodded, his face still in shadow and his hands resting flat on the surface of the desk. "Yes," he said. "I suppose it is." 

  


* * *

  


Something changed in Severus after that night. Remus watched it happen, heard it in every soft word and pained sigh, felt it each time Severus rolled over and let Remus use his body as roughly and harshly as he wanted, growling about _the wolf_ and _harder_ and _yeah, like that, open for me_. The wolf had not stopped desiring Severus, even as it delighted in curling over Bill's back and coming in thick waves up his arse or down his thighs. The wolf had grown bold and desperate. The wolf had ceased listening to reason. The wolf refused to acknowledge that Severus knew about Bill and yet kept his objections, his disappointment, and his heartbreak quiet. 

The wolf knew everything, and took responsibility for nothing. 

  


* * *

  


"Oh, is this your parrot? He's very handsome, isn't he? What does he say?" Remus bent over the small boy as the rest of the class filed out. 

"He's not a parrot!" the boy protested, giggling. "He's a frog!" He waved the plush toy in Remus's face. 

"A frog?" Remus scratched his head. "That's ridiculous. Look at his beak!" He reached out to tickle the toy's long tongue. 

"That's not his beak!" The boy dissolved into laughter, racing down the hallway after his friends. "He doesn't even have feathers!" he called back to Remus as he rounded the corner, and Remus rose from his crouch, massaging his knees and shaking his head sadly. 

"Indeed," he muttered to himself. He locked the door of his classroom and made his way upstairs to Marina's lab to say hello, as he did most days. When he arrived, he glanced in the window and was surprised to see Severus there, hunched over a bench and frantically gesturing to Marina and two of her assistants, his face creased with frustration. Remus pushed the door open slowly. 

"Absolutely not!" Severus was ranting, tapping his index finger hard against a piece of parchment on the table. "The variables must have been disturbed. This result is unacceptable." He turned to Marina, his face flushed. "Is this the kind of work you endorse in this laboratory?" he said angrily. "Amateurs, the lot of them!" 

"_Professionals_, the lot of them," Marina shot back, "and if you won't accept these results, then you are not a scientist! Your judgement is clouded, Severus," she said pointedly, hands on her hips. "So eager to have an excuse, are you? Well." She slammed her hand down on the table. "Here is your result! He has no excuses now, does he? Go home and tell him he has no excuses." 

"It doesn't make _sense_," insisted Severus, his lips thin against his pale face. "There was every indication that Bill was affected. I've seen the files, the reports from his first full moons – it was all there!" 

"What was there?" said Marina. "He wanted a steak? Okay. He was angry, aggressive? Okay. He _howled_, what? What was your evidence? It is behavioural! He behaved exactly the way he was expected to behave! Everyone told him he would feel different, have desires, all of that! It is not scientific, Severus, and this proves it." She pointed to the parchment again, her glare icy. 

"Unacceptable," insisted Severus, turning away from her in a huff and crossing his arms over his chest. As he did so, he saw Remus in the door and his face softened. "Get in here," he said gruffly, striding to the door and grabbing Remus's arm. "Tell her," he said in Remus's ear, and Remus grew alarmed at the way Severus's heart was racing. "Tell her what it's like, how you can't control it." 

Remus glanced back and forth between them. "How _what's_ like?" he asked, dreading the answer. 

Marina gave him a sad smile. "How are the children?" she asked, but Severus brushed her aside. 

"Oh, honestly. _The children_. This is important!" he barked. "Roll up your sleeve," he ordered Remus as he grabbed a sterilised needle from a nearby tray. 

Remus instinctively snatched his arm away. "No," he protested. "_No_. What are you doing? I _told _you I won't–"

"I don't care what you told me," said Severus, gripping his arm again. He seemed to sense Remus's confusion and paused for a moment, his hold on Remus's arm softening as he turned tired, pleading eyes on Remus. "Lupin," he said quietly, his back to Marina and the assistants. "_Remus_," he breathed, his nose touching the shell of Remus's ear. "This is _very_ important. Will you trust me?" 

Remus pulled back to look into Severus's eyes and felt himself open for the first time in months. He felt Severus's defences weaken as he was allowed to see the desperation behind Severus's request. He couldn't see the exact reasons, the exact scenario, but he felt the waves of fear and concern radiating off Severus, and it tugged at his heart. "What is it?" he asked, pulling Severus to the side of the room and searching his eyes. 

Severus ground his teeth together, shaking his head. "I can't tell you, not yet. I will," he added with a grimace. "I _will_, I swear it. It's just– an experiment. For werewolves. Marina has found very suspicious results based on blood from–" He stumbled only briefly over the name, and Remus fought not to close his eyes in shame. "–from _Bill_, and several others. I need to verify it." 

Remus searched his face again, and couldn't help but feel his heart warm at the determination in Severus's face. He was reminded of their teenage years, and the way Severus always hovered over his potions in class with such interest; or even the war years, when Severus revelled in the danger of his work, walking the tightrope between good and evil and coming alive in the space that separated the two. He hadn't seen Severus look so alive in months, years maybe, so excited about his work and desperate for Remus's help. _An experiment. For werewolves._ Severus wouldn't ask this of him if it wasn't important. 

He placed a hand against Severus's chest and stood up straight, looking him in the eye. He had betrayed Severus's trust himself, he knew that, and their relationship had been fragmenting and crumbling before his very eyes lately. Neither of them would say it, and Remus still wasn't even sure what, exactly, Severus knew of his relationship with Bill, but if any of this could be salvaged, if a final declaration could help, he had to try. 

"All right," he said quietly, rolling up his sleeve. "I trust you." 

Severus let out a breath and took his elbow, steering him back to the lab and the equipment. "Your services are no longer required," he snapped at Marina as they passed her. "I will take it from here." 

Her eyes widened. "This is _my_ lab, not yours," she told him, muttering instructions to her assistants under her breath. "You cannot be trusted to do this alone, Severus," she added. "You have too much invested." 

Remus stared at her. "What is this?" he asked angrily. "What aren't you telling me, both of you?" 

But Severus ignored him. "Too much invested?" he snarled at Marina. "_Too much invested?_ You have _no_ idea." He released Remus's arm and thrust the needle into the hands of an assistant. With a few quick words to the startled-looking man and a final glare at Marina, he turned to Remus and shut the rest of the room out, a unique ability only Severus had. He took Remus's face in his hands and leaned in, brushing his lips over Remus's with a soft insistence that left Remus breathless. "Prove them wrong," he breathed against Remus's mouth, his urgency painted across his face. 

In another second, he had walked across the room and out the door, leaving Remus blinking stupidly at Marina and the assistants, unsure of what, exactly, had just happened. 

  


* * *

  


Remus arrived home with his magically healed arm still throbbing a bit where Marina had drawn a significant amount of blood, and a thousand questions still buzzing in his mind. She hadn't answered any of them, only telling him repeatedly that she and Severus were on the verge of a major breakthrough in werewolf biology, and he should just shut up and _help_, dammit. He found Severus pacing in the kitchen, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and his sleeves carelessly rolled to the elbow. His hair hung loose but bore the signs of having had impatient hands tugging at it for most of the afternoon, and his face was even paler than usual. 

"Well?" he barked as Remus pushed the kitchen door open. "What did she find?" 

Remus blinked at him. "I don't think it's an instant process, Severus," he said, dropping into a chair. "She said she'll Floo later. Do you mind telling me what's going on?" 

Severus only eyed him carefully for several long seconds, the weight of his gaze making Remus uncomfortable. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and spoke in a measured voice. "How do you feel?" 

Remus blinked again. "Er– fine." 

Severus waved an impatient hand. "It's two days before the full moon," he pointed out. "How do you _feel?" _

Remus considered the question, letting his brain evaluate his body and weigh the way each limb, bone, and blood vessel reacted to the scrutiny. "Tired," he said at last, and Severus let out a huff. 

"Sex," he said, a bit too loudly, still watching Remus with those careful eyes. "Do you want to have sex?" 

"I– sure." He paused. "Do _you_ want to?" 

Severus closed his eyes, his mouth tight. "Lupin, I am trying with every ounce of sanity I retain to speak about this in a civilised manner, and you are, if possible, making it infinitely more difficult than it needs to be." 

Remus shoved his chair back and stood up, glaring at him. "Tell me what the hell we're talking about and maybe I'll stop making it so difficult for you," he snarled. His mouth dropped open at what Severus did next. 

Holding Remus's gaze, Severus popped the remaining buttons of his shirt open and pulled it off his shoulders, standing bare-chested in the middle of their kitchen as he slowly pulled his arms behind his back to finish removing the shirt. When he did, he threw it to the ground and started on his trousers, his hands pausing at the zip. "It's two days before the moon," he said, his voice low. "What do you _want_?"

Remus's mouth went dry. The sight of Severus half-naked and submissive before him, offering himself on a plate like that with no preamble, was almost too much. It hadn't happened this way since the war, when fucking had been dangerous and erotic, a fumbled mess of clothes pushed aside and stark offers made and heated grinding in any room and over any surface. He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the cold tile floors and rough wooden table and felt his pulse throb. 

Without another thought, he strode forward and spread his palm over Severus's bare chest, pushing him back to the wall and enjoying the _thud_ he made when he hit it. Holding firm, Remus leaned in and moved his nose over Severus's neck and jaw, inhaling deeply and feeling his cock rise and his blood begin to thrum. Another step forward brought his hips in line with Severus's and he ground in, watching Severus's head fall back against the wall and a shameless groan fall from his parted lips. 

"_Yes_," he hissed, grasping at Remus's hips and pulling him in closer. "Feel that," he purred, his voice low and intoxicating. "You can't stop it, can you? The wolf needs it, Lupin. _Come on_." 

There was nothing for it. The wolf _did_ need it, and all thoughts of Bill and last month's exploits fell from Remus's mind as he shoved Severus hard against the wall, growling in his ear and biting at his neck and shoulder as Severus tilted his head back and whispered words that didn't banish their trousers but pushed them down just far enough, and Remus smiled into Severus's neck. This had always been a favourite frantic trick of theirs, back in the day: since it would never do to be caught flat-out naked, they had always torn open just enough clothing for contact, their pricks brushing amidst barely freed fabric confines as trousers slid down hips and skin sought hot skin. 

He tangled one hand in Severus's hair and slid the other down to close around their pricks, pushing his hips in hard. The feel of Severus's cock moving against his was exquisite, the skin catching just enough to jolt them from an easy rhythm, tiny stabs of pain lacing the pleasure. Filth continued to pour from Severus's mouth as Remus buried his head in Severus's hair and shoulder and _shoved_, too hard and too rough. 

_The wolf_, Severus kept repeating, _the wolf_, and Remus's mind whirred with images of blood and sweat and the pure adrenaline of a really nasty fight. Visions of Bill on his knees swam before him as he squeezed his eyes closed, a length of thick red hair twisting in his mind and a smooth neck pulled tight before him. He ground against Severus and tangled an insistent hand in his hair, moaning into Severus's ear as his body spiralled out of control. 

Severus's fingers clawed at Remus's waist and then froze, and Remus felt the warm liquid seep over his hand as Severus's cock jerked against him, and the wolf scraped its teeth down Severus's neck at the feeling. His heart pounding and his blood racing, Remus swept his hand up once more, coating it in Severus's come and letting the silky glide of it push him over the edge, and then he was drowning, shoving up hard against Severus's trapped body and growling in his ear. With a shudder, he collapsed against Severus and let strong arms embrace him. A hand tilted his head up and lips found his, soft and insistent and strong enough to hold him. 

  


* * *

  


Remus would think back on that encounter later and wish he'd savoured it more. The feel of Severus's strong body next to his, sated and pleasured and asking nothing of him but to take pleasure in return, was a rare gift that he must have known he would not find with anyone else. And yet it still didn't prepare him for the changing tide, the inevitable moment when the pleasure of a committed partner was no longer enough, not when the world as he knew it was crumbling to the ground. 

  


* * *

  


"Severus!" a voice hollered from the living room, and Severus sighed, pushing Remus away and muttering Cleaning Charms on the pair of them before righting his trousers and bending to reach for his shirt. 

"Now?" asked Remus. "God, can't she wait till tomorrow?"

Severus only shook his head in response, dressing and striding from the kitchen to kneel before the grate in the living room before Remus could finish fastening his clothes. 

"Well?" he heard Severus ask as he pushed the door open behind him, giving Marina's head a weak smile that she did not return. 

She held Severus's gaze for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she said, dropping her eyes, and Severus let the silence fall again. When he spoke, it was in a voice Remus had never heard before. 

"You understand how important this is," he said quietly, his voice so low Remus had to strain to hear the words. "If there is _any_ mistake here, if your assistants botched this in _any _way, do you appreciate how serious it would be? Do you?" 

She held his eyes, her face softening. "Yes," she said, not allowing him to intimidate her, "I do, and there is no mistake. I'm sorry, but there is no mistake. If you want me to tell him, I will do this." 

Severus shook his head. "No," he said simply. "Tell Bill, that's what you can do, and then…" He paused. When he spoke again, his voice had an edge to it that made Remus's spine straighten. "Then you may tell him that I have a werewolf here that I won't be needing anymore, and that he is more than welcome to have him if it will get him out of my sight." 

Both Remus and Marina's mouths dropped open at the same time, although while Remus had a million questions, Marina seemed to understand that it was in her best interests to leave. 

"I'll… do that," she said, her brow furrowed. "But Severus–"

"Leave us," he said firmly, rising from the floor. 

She paused for another second, working her jaw as if to say something more, but finally nodded in resignation. She glanced up at Remus and her face creased. With a puff of green smoke, she was gone. 

"That's it," said Remus the second the Floo had cleared. "I'm sick of these chemistry games you two are playing. This is my _life_, Snape – my blood. Tell me what the hell is going on, or–"

"Or what?" Severus stood before him, glaring. "I suggest you remain silent, Lupin, lest you incriminate yourself even more than you already have." 

"_Incriminate_ myself?" Remus gaped at him. 

"It's two days before the moon," continued Severus, his voice rising. "How do you _feel?"_ He drew out the last word until it dripped with menace. 

"I told you!" said Remus. "I'm tired, and my shoulder's a bit sore, now that I think about it, and I want to fuck." He met Severus's glare. "Same as always. _What?"_

"And does Bill Weasley alleviate those symptoms?" 

Remus stared. "No," he bit out. "He– no." 

"Well, then perhaps you simply aren't fucking him hard enough or often enough. It must be a terrible temptation, being around a partial werewolf so much." Severus's face was white as a sheet, his eyes livid with rage. 

"_What?_ Okay, you knew about that." Remus felt the noise build up in his head as though the room was filling with water and he had no idea where the release valve was. "You– she told you, I _know_ she did, and you– you didn't care." His lungs weren't working right, nothing was working right. This conversation wasn't working right. He knew. _He'd known_, Remus was sure of it. And he'd said nothing. 

"Do you know what she did with your blood just now?" Severus raged. "Do you want to know what I have been working on for six months while you've been at dance clubs all night long with your cock out? Are you ready to hear it?" He slammed his fist into the wall. "Do make sure you're prepared, Lupin, because you are out of excuses now, you have nothing left to lean on after this, nothing–"

"Shut the fuck up with your patronising!" shouted Remus. "Yes, I fucked Bill Weasley, all right? A hundred times at least. Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you want to hear? We're not your fucking lab animals. You want to draw blood and put us in a test tube? Fuck you! You have _no _idea what we go through, how hard it is to–"

"No idea? I suggest you stop talking, Lupin, before you–"

"I will _not _stop talking! You don't know what it's like, Snape, so stop fucking pretending you do. God, you and Marina with your theories and your experiments! Have you ever felt your blood literally get hotter right in your veins? Has your cock been so hard it _hurt?_ Have you ever been driven absolutely fucking insane by the smell of sweat and hormones coming off another man?" He ran his hands through his hair and slumped back against the wall. "I didn't mean to do any of it," he said, his voice softening, "but I _can't_ stop it. The wolf isn't all of me, but it's a big part, and sometimes I just have to give it what it wants, all right? I just." He let his head fall back against the wall. "I'm sorry." 

Severus was silent for a moment, but Remus felt him move closer. When he looked up, he couldn't read the look in Severus's eyes. "You are not a lab animal, that's true," said Severus, "nor an animal of any kind. You transform once a month. That is all." 

Remus stared at him. 

"Your blood does not heat. Your cock does not get hard from nothing. You cannot smell a single thing you could not smell before." He pointed a finger back at the fireplace. "We have just spent half a year conducting experiments that prove that werewolves suffer no physical side effects besides some muscle cramping and bone deterioration over long periods of time. Your blood was the final confirmation. There is nothing there. _Nothing_."

Remus kept staring. 

"So if you have a _better_ excuse for why you've been fucking Bill Weasley and then crawling back home to _my_ bed at night, now would be a good time to tell me." 

"I– no." Remus shook his head, his mind spinning. He shot an accusing glare at the empty fireplace. "No, she's wrong." He suddenly recalled Severus's heated protests in the lab that afternoon. "Like you said before – she did it wrong, or her assistants did, or–" He swallowed. "I've _felt it_, Severus," he insisted. "It's real." 

"This is what's real," said Severus. "You aren't fucking Bill Weasley because you have to, or because you can't control it. You're fucking him because _he_ makes your blood heat, and your cock so hard it hurts, and your sense of smell go mad with lust." The words dripped off Severus's tongue like icicles, so cold and sharp Remus could barely process them. Severus strode to the library door and flung it open, pausing to turn once more to Remus. "Werewolf or not," he said, "you're fucking him simply because _you want to_."

He slammed the door shut behind him, and Remus slid down the wall to the floor, overwhelmed with shock. 

  


* * *

  


**Part 4:**

The first thing Remus did after Severus left the house was to sit on the floor of the living room for an immeasurable amount of time, his heart thudding and his mind whirring with noise. 

The second thing he did was Floo Marina back. 

"Is Severus there?" his head asked her when her kitchen whirled into view, and she stared at him, shaking her head. "Good. I'm coming through." 

"Remus–" she protested, but _fuck her_, she'd just ruined his life, and he wanted a few answers. 

He stepped from the grate and brushed the soot from his trousers before straightening to his full height and glaring at her. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice firm. 

"Don't get angry with me," she warned, pointing a finger at him. "You brought this on yourself." 

"And your punishment is to mess with my lab results?" he asked, incredulous. 

"I did _not_ mess with anything," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You and Severus and your assumptions. My God. Women cannot work in science, yes, yes. You think I have not heard this before? You must do better than that before you offend me. I am better at this than he is, and _very much_ better than you are, and so. You can stop saying that it is a wrong result, that it–"

"How can it be a _right_ result?" cried Remus. "Do you have any idea what you've done to my life?" 

"Any idea, any idea." She threw her hands up. "You and Severus, always thinking I have no idea what my results mean. Yes, I know what _I've done_." She twisted her lips over the last words. "I am trying to help you. And Bill," she added. 

Remus stared at her. "Help us," he repeated flatly. 

"He thinks he cannot live with his wife because he will hurt her! He thinks he must have sex with her too much, too hard, whatever it is." A faint blush crept up her cheeks, but she kept her determined eyes on Remus. "And _you_," she added, lowering her voice. "I don't even know what you think you are doing." 

He glared at her. 

"That man loves you more than Fleur will ever love Bill. I've seen both pairs together, I've talked to all of you, and that is something I know is true. And what do you do?" She flung her arm in the air. "Throw it all away. It is _madness_, Remus. You cannot blame the wolf. It is you, being mad like this." 

Remus considered his words. "You aren't supposed to know about any of that. It's my private life," he said. "It's not your business what–"

"No, it's not, but do you really think it is so secret? My God." She shook her head in exasperation. "You might as well bend him over the dinner table. You think we are all fools. Well, Severus is a fool, but he is the only one." 

"He's not a fool." Remus ran a hand through his hair, curling it around the back of his neck and lowering his head, trying to make sense of it all. "You need to stop working with him," he added. "You've completely convinced him of this madness, and now everything is ruined. Tell him this was all a mistake." 

"I– _what_?" She stared at him with wide eyes. "Do you really still believe this? It is not a mistake! You must stop using the wolf as an excuse, Remus. It is preventing you from your life! Severus saw the evidence; I did not tell him anything that was not in the blood." 

"They've _done_ all these experiments before!" exclaimed Remus. "It's been proven, Marina – why are you trying to challenge this? The werewolf sex drive is common knowledge, all right? Just– I don't understand why you're doing this." 

She dropped into a nearby chair and sighed, shaking her head again. "Then I cannot make you understand," she said softly. "If you insist on this, then I just–" She paused. "I don't know how to make you see it." 

Remus pressed his lips together and headed for the Floo. "I never trusted you, and now I know why," he muttered, digging in his pocket for some powder before something else occurred to him. "Have you told Bill?" he asked over his shoulder, and Marina sighed again. 

"Yes," she admitted. "He's in the cottage, I think." She motioned towards the back door with a weary toss of her head, and Remus changed his course. Without giving her another look, he strode out the back door and headed across the lawn to the guest house. 

  


* * *

  


Remus pushed the door to Bill's cottage back and gave a half-hearted knock with one knuckle. He found Bill and Charlie talking quietly at the small table, heads bowed together. Bill glanced up and held Remus's eyes for a moment, and then dropped his gaze again. A piece of parchment and a photograph slipped through his fingers as Charlie turned to follow his brother's eyes. After another pause, he gestured for Remus to enter. 

"Marina talk to you?" asked Charlie, and Remus nodded, moving inside and closing the door behind him. Charlie glanced between Bill and Remus for a second, clearing his throat. "Well. I should probably say I'll leave you two alone, but I'm not sure that's a good idea." 

"Charlie, I need to talk to him," said Remus with a sigh, but Bill shook his head. 

"No, it's all right," he said to Remus. "He can stay. Nothing he doesn't know anyway." He paused, clenching his jaw and staring down at the table. "Got a letter yesterday," he said at last. "First time I've heard from her in awhile, and…" He picked up the photograph from the table and offered it to Remus. "My son," he said softly. 

Remus felt a shiver run through him, prickling at his fingertips as he reached forward to take the photograph. In it, a perfectly-groomed baby with soft red hair and a beaming smile sat on a blanket, clutching a tiny, plush Eiffel Tower in one hand and banging it frantically up and down. He stared at the photo too long, his eyes blurring over the baby's face as he tried to think of what on earth he was supposed to say when he looked up again. 

"I… okay, maybe I shouldn't be here," he said at last, handing the photo to Charlie to avoid Bill's fingers on his. He paused on his way back to the door, reconsidering. "Do you– I mean, he's– he's beautiful, of course he is. Had you– not seen him before?" he asked incredulously. 

"She chucked me out just after he was born," said Bill, and Remus almost didn't recognise his voice. It bore none of the sullen sarcasm or rough innuendo he was used to hearing spill from Bill's mouth. This Bill was quiet and contemplative, his face lined and his voice hoarse. "And I didn't really fight her on it, because…" He paused, shrugging and giving a short laugh. "Figured if I stuck around, he'd only end up like me." 

The tension in the room was nearly too much to bear, and Remus tried to laugh to lighten the mood. "What, Head Boy?" he scoffed. "A crack curse breaker? Come on." 

Charlie glared at him, his voice rising with every word. "God, you still don't get it, do you? You want that kid to think it's okay that Daddy's a fucking werewolf and that means he can do anything he fucking pleases? To anyone?" He stopped and pressed his lips together. "You're right, Remus. Maybe you shouldn't be here." He glanced down at the letter. "He's got a chance to save his marriage, all right? Nobody needs you fucking that up again." 

"Charlie…" sighed Bill, rubbing his forehead, but Remus interrupted. 

"Look," he said, his anger rising, "You, and Marina, and Fleur – you don't _get it_." He subconsciously found himself moving towards Bill's side of the table in some strange sort of solidarity. He pulled out the chair beside Bill, sat down and turned to him, trying to shut Charlie out. "You've _felt it_," he murmured, leaning his head in close. "You know what it's like, how we get. If we could control it, none of this ever would have happened. We didn't _want_ this to happen." 

"Didn't we?" Bill raised his eyes to Remus's. "_I _wanted this to happen." He let out a short laugh, running his hand over his face. "God, Remus, I did everything short of _Imperius_ to get you to fuck me. And you think I didn't _want _it when it finally happened?" He shook his head. 

Charlie pushed his chair back and rose, a frown on his face. "All right," he said curtly. "I'll leave you two alone. But if I hear _anything_ that sounds like fucking in here, I know more than a few curses for chopping the bollocks off magical creatures, okay?" He didn't smile as he glared at them both, and then turned to the door and left. 

Neither of them spoke for a long moment after Charlie left. The room grew hot and oppressive, the photo of Bill's son giggling up at them from the table like some perversely inappropriate ghost, and Remus tugged at his collar. 

"Bill," he began at last. 

"I don't know," said Bill, shaking his head. "I think she might be right about this." 

"What? Since when do you trust Marina on anything?" 

Bill sighed. "Since never, I know, and I still don't, really, but… I trust Charlie, all right? And if he trusts her, there's got to be a reason for it. Think about it, Remus! It's a way out of this, you know? Aren't you sick of it, thinking we _have_ to feel this way?" 

Remus stared at him. "I don't believe this. What did–" He glanced back at the door. "Is this what Charlie told you?" 

"Don't blame Charlie." 

"You _feel it_," Remus insisted, leaning close to Bill and pushing his hand up Bill's thigh. "I didn't want any of this, but we had no choice." 

"Yes, we did," breathed Bill, his lips parting and his eyes locked on Remus. 

Remus moved his fingers up and curled them between Bill's thighs, the other hand wrapping around Bill's neck and pulling him in close. "It's intuition," he murmured against Bill's mouth. "Not choice." He parted his lips and pulled Bill to him then, his fingers sliding to the pulse point of Bill's thigh and his mouth hot against Bill's. He felt the familiar jolt up his spine at the touch and deepened the kiss, focusing on the feral need building inside him. 

_Think of the wolf_, he implored himself. _It's got to be about the wolf_.

Bill groaned into his mouth and grabbed hold of Remus's shirt, hauling him in closer before lifting a hand to frame Remus's jaw. Fingers clutched at the back of his head and a calloused thumb swept up his cheek, tilting his head to the side and shifting the kiss as Bill's tongue curled into Remus's mouth. "God," breathed Bill, licking at Remus's bottom lip before plunging back in for more. "Oh, _God_…"

Remus stilled his hand on Bill's thigh and fought to maintain enough emotional distance from the situation to analyse its cause, even with Bill's lips on his and Bill groaning against him. His skin felt hot and his cock stirred to life, ready to do the wolf's bidding and pin Bill down to the floor, taking its pleasure and – 

But without warning, Bill pulled away abruptly and sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and loudly pushing his chair back, scraping the wood floor. His chest heaved and he looked at Remus with something like determination, or disappointment, on his face. 

"What I'm gathering here," he muttered, "is that _I_ wanted this to happen, at the beginning, and you didn't. So…" He scratched at his jaw. "I don't know. I think we have a problem." He stared at the photograph on the table. 

Remus ran his tongue over his lip, curling it under his teeth and savouring the taste of Bill on him even as Severus's voice crept into his mind. 

_Werewolf or not, you're fucking him simply because you want to_.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "We do." He pushed his chair back and strode to the door, angry and confused and wishing the person he usually went to at such times wasn't the one person he needed to avoid. 

  


* * *

  


It rained that night, lashing the blue door with polluted water that slid down the surface like tears. The rest of the house withstood the onslaught from angry clouds, bracing itself against the thunder and lightning and sheets of pounding rain, but the door almost buckled. It had been built of damaged wood to begin with, after all; it didn't have the strength to fight in the face of such a storm. 

  


* * *

  


Remus slept alone that first night, having no idea where Severus was but caring more than he'd like to admit. He was probably at Marina's, Remus figured, ranting and raving about what a horrible man Remus was, the very worst kind of traitor. Or he was out alone, at a club or on a street corner, looking for a man to take him in who would give good head and not ask too many questions. Or he was at his lab, laid out on a workbench on his back, staring at the ceiling and counting the ways Remus had disappointed him over the years. 

It would be better than counting sheep, Remus decided; the number could go to infinity, after all, and the instances were so varied that he'd never lose count. 

Such was their life together: Severus was always right and Remus was always wrong. But not this time. This time, Remus was going to fight. 

As it turned out, Severus did not return for several days, and Remus did not go looking for him. The solitude was oddly comforting, or at least, that's what he told himself as he opened tins of baked beans at night and sliced soggy tomatoes in the morning, wandering around the house like a lost child and checking every room for monsters. He transformed as usual when the moon rose, refusing to analyse his own body too closely as the bones shifted and the senses he expected to sharpen remained dull as ever. During the day, he stared blankly at his lesson books and tried to imagine what he would actually do with his life if he had the choice, but it had been so long since he'd had any choice in anything at all, that particular exercise was not terribly fruitful. 

Mostly, he watched the dragons in his picture books breathe pencilled fire and wondered how they did it with such impunity, when his own magical abilities had done nothing but burn him up. 

  


* * *

  


When Severus did finally return, it was with a bag of clothes and an even more alarming scowl than usual. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked flatly, stopping dead in the kitchen door when he saw Remus eating breakfast. Remus glanced up. 

"I live here." 

"I thought you'd have gone to live with others of your _kind_ by now. It must be so terribly difficult to mask your wolfish nature as human, day in and day out." 

Remus glared. "I do all right." 

"I'm curious." Severus tilted his head to the side. "Was it all that time with Greyback that put these ideas in your head, or were you always convinced your cock was such a terribly special commodity?" 

"You had plenty of experience with my cock long before I went to Greyback," said Remus evenly, brushing the toast crumbs from his fingers and rising from his chair. "I don't recall any complaints." 

"No," agreed Severus, his mouth twisting. "I'd no complaints. Neither did Nymphadora, I assume. Nor Black. Nor… remind me again, Lupin? I've forgotten. Was it Shacklebolt next, or did you move straight to Weasley?" 

"Oh, is this what we're doing now? Fine." Remus crossed his arms over his chest. "You were wanted for murder during much of that time, you may recall, so pardon me for moving on with my life. And you know Shacklebolt never happened, although thank you for embellishing your case with flat-out lies. Tell me, was this the list you were compiling in your head while you had Lucius Malfoy between your legs, or was that his wife?" 

"Both," said Severus after a pause, his eyes narrowed and his voice low. "What other nasty memories might we dig up? No, please." He raised a hand. "I haven't even had breakfast yet. This is such a pleasant way to start the day. Do continue." 

But Remus merely sighed, resting his hands on the table and leaning over to gather his breath. "I don't want to fight with you," he said at last. "I'm sorry that challenging these results means challenging your professional expertise, but that's just the way it is. You've made a mistake." 

"_I've_ made a mistake." Severus's voice was flat. 

"There are things I can control," he continued, "and there are things I can't control. You've always known that." 

"Yes," said Severus quietly. "I have. And I've always believed right along with you that this was physical, not psychosomatic. But you have to accept that–"

"Psychosomatic!" cried Remus. "You think I've been making this up all this time? You think I _want_ this?" 

"Why won't you listen to reason?" Severus bellowed suddenly, his eyes blazing. 

"I'm tired of fighting, Severus," said Remus, his shoulders slumped. "I tried as hard as I could to control my desires, to make this work." He gestured weakly between them before dropping his hand. "I want to be with you, but the wolf gets… I don't know. _Bored_, I suppose, and I'm sorry for that, but." He took another breath as Severus looked away. "It's just. I can't control it. I don't know what else to tell you, but your lab results just aren't right. I need sex," he added, dropping his voice. "I'm not proud of it, and I'm sorry I let you down, but it's just the way it is. The wolf needs it." 

Something shifted in Severus at the words. His back straightened too suddenly, and he cocked his head to the side. His scowling face eased into neutrality, and he lifted his chin. "Is that your final word on the matter?" he asked quietly. 

Remus nodded. 

"Very well," he said, stalking out of the room as Remus let out the breath he'd been holding. "In that case, don't say I didn't warn you." 

  


* * *

  


The blue door watched him leave that morning and gave a slow, mourning creak as it closed. If he'd known he wouldn't see it again for some time, Remus might have paused on his way out and run a hand down the surface, remembering back to a time when the colour was still sharp and the splinters not as deadly. 

  


* * *

  


The children were remarkably well behaved that day, much more so than usual, which really should have been the first indication that something was about to go horribly wrong. 

"So, if we have – how many teeth in our mouth?" he asked brightly. 

"Twenty-three!" the children cried, punctuated by the odd exclamation of, "Nineteen!" and "Forty-twelve!" and Remus laughed. 

"Thirty-two, yes, excellent, then how many teeth does a typical Norwegian Ridgeback have?" 

"A thousand!" 

"Twenty hundred!" 

"A billion-zillion!" 

The class broke into gales of laughter as Remus shook his head sadly, waving his wand at the orthodontic chart behind him to make the silent dragon model snap its jaws shut. The children squealed in terror and ducked under their desks, the braver of them emerging to laugh it off nervously a second later. 

"All right, enough orthodontics. Let's talk scales," he said, changing the picture behind him. "Right. Now, if you're a Ridgeback, what's the most important use for your scales? Think Norway, now, where is–"

He was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. Before he could cross the room to open it, a spell blew it open and three Aurors burst in, training their wands on Remus and shouting at each other to keep him cornered. His own wand leapt from his pocket and into one of the Aurors' hands, but his brain clicked into gear just in time to dodge the spell that tried to immobilise him. 

"What on earth is–"

"_Silencio!_" one bellowed, but Remus ducked again, hollering a wandless Shielding spell over the front of the classroom to block the children from harm. His heart raced and his mind could only think one thing: the war had finally caught up to him, and all the promised exonerations were now useless. He barely had time to wonder if there had been a coup at the Ministry, and if a new round of persecutions was about to begin for perceived crimes committed during the war. 

"Get him out of here!" another Auror snapped before instructing the third to stay with the children. 

"Wasn't that exciting?" Remus heard her say to them after she took down his Shield, in what must have been her best attempt at a teacher's voice. "Professor Lupin wanted to show you what a real Auror team looked like in action!" The children were not impressed – some cowering under their desks, some crying against the walls – but the Auror continued to try to soothe them, and despite having no idea what was going on, he was grateful to her for protecting the children. As the door shut behind him, he heard them begin to titter and clap in approval. 

Outside the classroom, the remaining two Aurors slammed him up against the wall and before he could get out another wandless spell, they slung a pair of magical handcuffs over his wrists to bind them, and it began to read him the charges. His mouth fell open and his stomach dropped to the floor as the metallic voice spoke. 

"Remus John Lupin, you are under arrest by the Ministry of Magic on the charges of illegally seeking employment as a werewolf, and as a high-risk suspect for potential sexual offences against children." 

Remus whirled around. "_What?" _

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Mr. Lupin," one of the Aurors growled. 

"Are you mad?" he hollered, ignoring the Auror and hitting the other with an elbow to the stomach as he struggled in the handcuffs. "Against _children?_ This is– I would _never_–"

The Auror hit him with a Stunning Hex before he could say another word, and his mind faded to black. 

  


* * *

  


He awoke to find himself lying on a wooden bench in a dark cell, muffled noises coming from beyond the stone walls. He pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his head, taking a few deep breaths. For a split second, the war was back on and his survival instincts kicked in. _Check for clues_, his frantic brain tried to tell him. _Windows, doors, markings on the walls. Find out where you are_. His eyes darted around the room, searching the walls for either claw marks or Dark marks – the two most obvious symbols that would tell him if he was with Greyback or Voldemort. 

"You were always a terrible captive, Lupin," a dry voice observed, and Remus whirled around. "Rule number one is to see if you're alone. _Then_, and only then, should you proceed to check the walls for markings." 

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his head swam. Severus was seated in front of the bars to his cell, black robes he hadn't worn since his days teaching at Hogwarts flowing over the chair and floor where he sat. His neutral face was barely lit from beyond the room, and his hands sat unclasped upon his lap. For the first time since they'd met, Remus looked at him and actually found him intimidating. 

Especially as his mind flooded with the sudden memory of the reason for this incarceration, and the blunt knowledge of just what Severus could do to him, if he chose. 

"What have you done?" he whispered. "I would _never_ hurt a child. You know that." 

"I know nothing of the sort," said Severus smoothly. "You admitted to me that you can't control your sexual urges. I found that statement alarming, to say the least, given your current place of employment." 

Remus stared at him, his mouth dry. "I didn't mean– you _couldn't _have thought– oh, God." He fumbled behind him to find the bench again and dropped down, his heart racing. His shock was quickly replaced by anger. "Get me out of here," he said flatly, his eyes locked on Severus. "This is between you and me." 

"Not anymore, it isn't." 

"It's Hogwarts all over again then, is it?" 

Severus glared at him, and Remus almost laughed. 

"What does Severus Snape do the minute he feels that his control of any situation is slipping?" said Remus mockingly. "Tell the Slytherins there's a werewolf loose." 

"If you ever once, in your life, took responsibility for your actions, Lupin, it would not be left to _me_ to do it for you." 

"It is _not _left to you, and it never has been," Remus snapped. "I can't _believe_ you did this," he added, letting his head hit the wall behind him. 

Severus rose from his chair, looming in front of the bars like a menacing shadow. "_I _did this?" he snarled. "No, Lupin. You did this. _You_." A blunt index finger jabbed in his direction. "Not me. Not Marina. Not even Bill Weasley. And not that fucking _wolf_."

Remus clenched his jaw. 

"So help me God," Severus continued, his voice dropping, "I don't know why, but there seems to be sufficient evidence in our shared past that I would do nearly anything for you." He leaned forward, curling his fists around the bars of Remus's cell. "But not this," he hissed. "Not anymore." 

He turned and stormed out of the room, robes swirling behind him, and Remus stared after him in disbelief. 

  


* * *

  


This was a bad dream. It had to be. Any second, he would wake up and rub the sleep from his eyes, Remus was sure of it. He'd roll over and tug at Severus's shoulder, waking him with an insistent kiss to the back of his neck, and when he finally woke and turned, tousled and heavy-lidded and as unguarded as Severus ever became, Remus would grin at him and say, "_You'll never believe this dream I had…"_

Severus knew all about bad dreams, after all; he had enough of them himself, waking in the night with a sudden intake of breath and wide eyes locked on some unseen force across the room, and the only thing that could calm him was Remus's hands on his skin, smoothing over his arms and chest and through the damp strands of his hair. It was something no one else saw, the way Severus could relax only under Remus's hands, and no one else's. It had taken literally _years_ to get to that point of trust, but they had made it, and as Remus thought on it, staring up at the ceiling of his Ministry cell, he realised it was one of the achievements he was most proud of in his life. 

Well, sod it. None of that mattered now. That life was gone. 

  


* * *

  


"I'm not going in there? Fuck you!" a voice hollered just outside the little room housing Remus's cell, and a moment later Charlie flung the door open, his finger jabbed in the face of a guard trying to stop him. "Five fucking minutes, all right? He's got a right to seek counsel." 

The guard glared at him and held up Charlie's surrendered wand as a warning. "Five minutes," he bit out, slamming the door shut. 

"Fucking dickheads," he muttered, striding up to Remus's cell and wrapping his hands around the bars. "Oh my fucking God, you have got to be kidding me." He stared slack-jawed at Remus. "What the _hell_, Remus? Is this for real? How did this happen? Who have you talked to? I need to call someone. We'll get you out, we'll–"

"Charlie." 

Charlie stopped, every line on his face drawn down. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" he asked flatly. 

"Severus's idea of revenge," Remus said with a wry smile, the knotted wood of the bench digging into him. 

Charlie shook his head back and forth. "That fucking cunt." 

Remus sighed. "Look–"

"No! _He _did this, making shit up and calling the Aurors to your _classroom_? Are you kidding me? Listen, I tried to get on with him, I really did, because I like you and all that, but this is fucking insane. What the fuck are you _doing_ with a man like this? Listen, we'll get you out of here and you can come over to Timisoara, okay? I'll get you on to my Fireball team, just had a bloke leave, so I need someone anyway. There's a flat you can have above the supply room. Not much, but it should do until–"

"_Charlie_."

He stopped, jaw set and eyes angry. 

Remus let out a slow breath, collecting his thoughts. Charlie was making him anxious, and that wasn't really what he needed at the moment. "Thank you, but I haven't decided about any of that yet. More pressing things on my mind." He glanced around his cell. 

"Right. Yeah, all right." Charlie unwound his fingers from the cell bars and backed away. 

"Now, as for _counsel_," Remus pressed. "What's going on out there? They won't tell me anything. How long can they keep me here? I need to talk to someone – can you–"

"Yeah, look, I think I can– I mean, I thought about it on the way over, and I think I know someone I can call, if you want." His face darkened into an expression Remus had never seen on him before. "I'll just– yeah, let me try that," he continued, stumbling through the words. "I don't know if she can help, but–"

"Who?" 

Charlie paused. "The, uh. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." 

Remus stared. "You– really?" He rubbed his eyes. "God. I haven't seen her in years. Why didn't I think of that?" 

"Yeah, well." Charlie's gaze darted wildly around the room, looking anywhere but at Remus. "It's been a while for me, too." He was quiet for another second before turning to go. "But look, she'll help you out, and once this is all done with, you can tell Snape to fuck off, all right?" 

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need to get out of here, and clear my name," he said quietly. "I'll deal with Severus later, but in my experience with him so far, getting rid of him is never just a simple matter of telling him to fuck off." 

"Well, it will be this time, because–"

"No, Charlie. It won't. And I don't want it to be." The words surprised him even as they left his mouth, but Remus stood by them. "There's a lot he and I need to talk about." 

Charlie shook his head. "You're fucking mad, then." His eyes were cold when they met Remus's. "You fuck around on him and he puts you in _jail_? And you aren't ready to walk away? What's the matter with you?" 

Remus stared at him. "What happened to your observation that he'd lay down in front of the Killing Curse for me?" he asked quietly. "He's not an easy man to get rid of, you know." A nasty, twisted thought occurred to him and he paused, weighing his next words. It wasn't fair to Charlie to say this, but he couldn't help it. "You seem to be working awfully hard to make sure that Bill goes back to Fleur, even though he's fucked around on her, and she's locked him out of their house and kept him from seeing their son." He gave Charlie a pointed look. "And it's all, what, based on one letter now? A single photograph, and he should just pick up where they left off?" 

"Look, that's different," said Charlie heatedly. "They're _married_. You don't fuck with marriage." He pointed an accusing finger at Remus. "And you know how I feel about you and him. Not on, man. Fleur's good for him – _really_ good, and you fucked that up." He ran a hand through his hair. 

Remus pursed his lips and struggled to resist the urge to kick Charlie in the head. He tilted his head to the side. "I suppose I'm not married," he said, "and Severus is not good for me, then?" 

"I told you what I think, Remus," said Charlie, glaring for another second before relenting and rolling his eyes. "And, okay, you're _married_, or whatever, but – you know what I mean. It's not the same." 

Remus felt a hot streak of rage slice through him, his face heating and his hands curling into fists, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't blame it on the wolf. "You defended him to me once," he pointed out, trying to keep his voice even. "Not too long ago." 

"He was devoted to you, I'll give him that," admitted Charlie, turning again to the door. "But this?" He gazed around the cell. "You don't do this to people you're devoted to," he said quietly. "No matter how badly they fuck up." With a last pitying glance at Remus, Charlie hurried from the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Remus plunked back down on the bench in his cell, looking up at the stone walls and pondering Charlie's words. He did have something of a point, after all: what kind of man did this to someone he was devoted to? 

_The kind that measures happiness as equal parts pain and redemption_, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. _The kind that would kill a man, if there was no other way, out of devotion_.

  


* * *

  


When he was sixteen, Remus had woken up after a transformation with the taste of blood in his mouth. The Shack had been quiet as a grave, his friends having retreated back to the castle hours earlier to avoid detection by Madam Pomfrey when she retrieved Remus. But she hadn't arrived yet, and Remus had been left alone with his wounded body and bewildered mind, trying to piece together everything he couldn't remember of the night before. 

There had been knotted tufts of fur on the floor of the Shack and bits of debris that might have been bone or flesh, if he'd stopped long enough to think about it, but he hadn't, because he had no wish to know. They had hunted that night, the wolf and Padfoot and Prongs, and in all likelihood, they had made a kill. His teeth had felt bruised and his fingernails bled, and as he'd lain still on his back in the bed, he'd been overwhelmed by one single thought: _You are a beast. _

Other nights would follow, other hunts and other close calls, culminating in the closest call of all – the night he'd nearly attacked Severus in that tunnel. But it was that earlier morning he'd always returned to as the first moment he'd known he was more animal than human, and that he always would be. 

But thinking back on it now, he couldn't remember the difference between knowing, and choosing. 

  


* * *

  


Charlie returned the next morning with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in tow. She took one look at Remus and turned on her assistant, a meek-looking young man with impeccable robes and a poised quill. 

"How did I not know about this?" she demanded. "If a wizard is arrested anywhere in England for _any_ offence, I am to know about it. If it is an offence related to magical creatures, I am doubly meant to know about it. And if the wizard in question is a friend of mine?" Her voice had risen with every successive sentence until it reached a fevered pitch. 

The assistant cowered. 

"I am to know about it!" 

"Yes, ma'am," he squeaked. 

"Ease up, Hermione," said Charlie, stepping forward to touch her arm. "I don't think Snape went through the right legal channels, exactly." 

She frowned at him, her eyes dropping to his hand on her arm for a split second before she quietly pulled away, squaring her shoulders and standing in front of Remus's cell. 

He hadn't seen Hermione Granger since the war. There wasn't really any reason for it; they had simply lost touch. After the trials and the exonerations, everyone had lost touch, it seemed. He'd heard of her promotion, of course; all the papers had covered it. Youngest witch or wizard ever to occupy the position of head of a Ministry department. He smiled at her. Good old Hermione. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, her face creased with worry. "Remus, what _happened?"_

He opened his mouth to explain and found he couldn't. "I'm all right," he said instead. "Just… embarrassed. And worried," he added. "I've never harmed a child, Hermione. You must believe that." 

She nodded, but her voice held an edge. "I do. So, why are you here, then?" 

He sighed. "It's a private matter between Severus and myself that he decided should be upgraded to a public matter," he said, trying to stay as calm as he could. 

"Ah." She held his eyes, a wry smile at her lips. "Sounds like Severus. He's always been quite good at revenge, hasn't he?" 

Remus laughed despite himself, shaking his head and running a hand over his face. "It certainly seems to be his forte," he muttered. 

"I don't want to know what happened to lead to an act of revenge of this magnitude, do I?" 

"I'd rather not get into it, no." 

She gave him a pointed look, and he sighed. 

"The basic facts of the matter," he began sullenly, "are that for various… reasons… I insisted to him that as a werewolf, I…" He took a deep breath. "… cannot, precisely, control my… sex drive." 

Hermione's mouth dropped open a little bit. "Ah," she said, her face colouring, before slamming her jaw shut again. "And his response to that was to…"

"Yes," he said quickly, glancing around his cell. 

She winced, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. "This is serious, you know. _Incredibly_ serious." When she looked up at him again, her face was hard but not unsympathetic. He dropped his eyes. 

"I know." 

"I'll do what I can to make it go away, considering there is no complaint by any individual children and no evidence that a complaint has been concealed, but…" She rubbed at her forehead. "I can't imagine you'll ever be able to teach again." 

He nodded wearily. "I know." 

"Not to mention your reputation, of course." 

"I _know_," he bit out. 

She regarded him for a long moment. "What does Severus want?" she asked at last, her eyes softening. "If he put you here to teach you a lesson of sorts–" She paused to roll her eyes – "then what will it take to get you out?" 

He glanced around the room. Hermione and her assistant stood just on the other side of the bars from him; Charlie was slumped in a chair nearby, jiggling his leg and chewing on his bottom lip, and Marina… He noticed Marina for the first time, hovering at the door with white knuckles clutching at the frame. He paused. "He wants me to admit I'm not an animal," he said slowly, and Hermione stared at him. 

"Okay," she said after a pause. "But…"

"I _am_ one?" He smiled sadly. "That's what I've been trying to tell him." 

Before she could answer, a new voice broke in from the door. "There is new evidence," said Marina, stepping into the room with her face set in a mask and her voice a bit too loud. "Severus and I have been researching werewolf properties." 

Hermione turned to her with surprise, her mouth open in a tiny _O_. It seemed very much as though she was struggling to keep her chin up and her gaze steady. "And what have you found?" she asked stiffly. 

"Werewolves have no physical compulsion to seek sex – no more than any other man. Or woman," she added, her face flushing. "He wants it to be an excuse," she continued quickly, pointing at Remus, "a reason to be unfaithful to Severus." 

Remus pressed his lips together. "I don't _want_ it to be an excuse," he corrected her irritably, his embarrassment rising by the second that his sex life was now apparently a matter for public debate. "It just _is_ one." 

"You see?" Marina gestured at him, shrugging sadly. "You cannot help him until he helps himself," she said to Hermione. "He can sleep with other people for any reason he wants," she added, "but not because he is a werewolf. For that, he is just like any of us, isn't he?" She lifted her chin and held Hermione's eyes a moment longer, and Remus noticed that it was the first time he had ever seen Marina and Charlie in the same room without once looking at each other. Before he could say anything to her, she spun on her heel and hurried to the door, clicking it shut behind her. 

The only sign that her composure had been affected was the few deep breaths Hermione took before turning back to Remus. When she did, she was all business again. "All right," she said briskly. "There will be a short inquiry. Panel of three or four, I expect. I'll try to have some influence over who's on it. If Marina can testify to this… new evidence, you might be all right." She sighed, looking up at him. "Okay?" 

He nodded. "Thank you," he said, and she gave him a weak smile, gesturing to her assistant to follow her. She too left without a backward glance at Charlie, and when she'd gone, Remus glanced across the room and found Charlie sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose and his eyes glued to the floor. 

Maybe those experiments had it backwards, he found himself thinking as he watched the man across from him with new understanding. Maybe it wasn't that he and Bill were purely human, but rather that everyone else had a bit of the wolf in them. 

  


* * *

  


**Part 5:**

The panel Hermione convened consisted of herself, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Director of the European Institute for Endangered Magical Plants and Animals, where Marina worked. Remus was led before them in magical handcuffs, angry and tired and sick to death of the Ministry and its bureaucracy. One thing Severus surely must have known when plotting this brilliant bit of revenge, Remus mused as he took his seat, was that, the severity of this particular situation aside, Remus simply despised the Ministry and everything it stood for, especially since the war. 

He glanced around the sparsely populated room, smiling weakly at Charlie and Marina, who were seated in the back row. Bill was not there, and Remus wasn't sure how he felt about that – something in between disappointment and relief. The rest of the small crowd seemed to be junior Ministry employees or legal apprentices, eagerly clutching their quills. He was oddly disappointed in the turnout, until he remembered to be grateful that word must not have leaked to his broader circle of friends – or the public – about this. Thank God. 

Hermione cleared her throat and introduced the panel, her voice echoing around the small room as Remus sat before them, trying to remember to keep his chin raised and his facial expression blank yet dignified. 

"As you can see," she continued, "we have agreed that the Wizengamot need not be involved here. Mr Lupin is a decorated veteran of the Second War, whose services in defence of the Ministry of Magic are well known." 

There was a loud grumble from the man beside her, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, who glared at Remus with small, beady eyes and gripped his quill too tightly. "Enough introduction, Ms Granger," he muttered. "We're all very aware of just what _services_ Mr Lupin offered during the war." 

Hermione paused only a moment before smiling out at the room. "And since any previous charges, convictions or exonerations shall not be permitted to affect our ruling on the matter at hand, let's continue." She caught Remus's eye for a quick second before skimming over the rest of the room, and he sighed in relief. He might have a chance after all. 

An hour later, after they had grilled him on the nature of his (illegal, the beady-eyed man reminded him) employment at the Institute ("Not something I would have condoned, had I known about it," grumbled the Director), and had asked several embarrassing questions about the _nature_ (Hermione coughed) of his relationship to the students, Remus still wasn't certain where he stood. Hermione was on his side, but the other two didn't trust him, he could see that. He took a deep breath. 

"There's something else," he began, eyes glancing between the three panel members. They paused in their writing and looked at him, but before he could continue, the door clicked open and the eyes of every member of the panel widened. Remus turned around to look, and saw Severus slipping in the door and taking a seat at the back of the room. If he thought he would go unnoticed, though, he was sorely mistaken – leading Remus to believe that Severus would never have thought any such thing to begin with. Remus turned back to face the panel, debating whether or not to say what he had planned to say. 

"Go on, Mr Lupin," Hermione called gently, her face grave but encouraging, and Remus sighed. 

"There's been new research at the Institute," he began. He held the Director's eyes, but the man only looked confused. "New experiments on werewolf biology." He turned behind him and gestured at Marina, deliberately avoiding Severus's gaze. She nodded her support, and he was hit with a wave of guilt for the way he'd treated her. "It's been led by Marina Banciu. Her team has recently confirmed that myths about uncontrollable werewolf sexuality are just that: myths. There is no physiological basis for it. It's part of the ongoing prejudice against werewolves. Those who endorse such myths want to reduce us to nothing but beasts, but… they're wrong." 

The words left his mouth and hung in the air in front of him, and Remus stared at them as they disappeared into sound and echoed around the room. He had only been trying to save his own skin, really, and if invoking Marina's theories would help, then he wasn't above doing so – even though admitting it in front of Severus prickled at him, after all he'd denied it before. But even as he spoke the words, he felt a weight leave his shoulders. All his years with Greyback, all his energies spent writing letters and campaigning for werewolf rights, and this, _this one thing_ had been something he'd never considered. 

Suddenly, Marina's earlier words hit him: _Think of them as magical creatures and right away they are different. Creatures. But they are not so different. There are creatures, and there are persons. For werewolves, the most important thing is to decide which is which. You can be one thing, or the other thing, but not both of them_.

The panel was staring at him. 

"Do you have evidence for this assertion?" the beady-eyed man from the Magical Creatures department asked him coldly, and Remus paused. 

"I– well." He glanced behind him, and Marina instantly stood up. 

"I can testify to this," she said. "He is right: without further evidence, you cannot convict him of sexual crimes based only on the fact that he is a werewolf. This is not correct; it is a damaging stereotype." 

The panel members shuffled their papers and murmured to each other in low voices. 

"One moment, please," said Hermione pleasantly, tossing up a Silencing Shield between the people in the small courtroom and the three judges, allowing them to discuss the matter privately. The three of them remained visible to the scattered people in the room, however, and Remus watched with trepidation as Hermione's mouth flapped and she gestured frantically at the two men, who looked increasingly grave and only shook their heads repeatedly. Finally, she turned back to the room and removed the Shield, her mouth fixed in a tight line. 

"I'm afraid we cannot hear Mrs Weas– er, Ms Banciu's testimony at this time," she announced. She frowned at Remus and shook her head in silent apology as the Director of Marina's institute cut in. 

"Romania has not met the requirements set out by the European Union Committee for Magical Research and Development," he said, "and thus is not a full member of the organisation. I can vouch for Ms Banciu as an individual researcher, but her testimony in an English court of law on matters of magical medicine or werewolf physiology is not permitted. We would need the testimony of a researcher from a member country." 

"What?" Marina cried, standing again and waving her hand at the Director. "Colin, that is madness! You know this! I told you of the work, what we were finding, and you agreed that–"

"That is our final word on the matter!" the beady-eyed man from the Department of Magical Creatures shouted, and Remus trained cold eyes on him. That son of a bitch had been out to get him from the start, but there was no way Hermione could have excluded him from the hearing, not with his position. He silently swore and glared at the panel. 

"The prisoner will return to his cell while we deliberate the matter," the beady-eyed man concluded, sweeping up his papers and rising with a flourish. 

Hermione flashed a glance at Remus as the panel filed out, mouthing apologies, and Remus stiffened as a guard trained a wand on him and compelled him to march back to his cell. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the dark-haired man sitting silently by the wall, whose eyes were trained pointedly on the chair in front of him. He did not look up as Remus passed, and for the first time, Remus entertained the possibility that he never would again. 

  


* * *

  


The cell was black and damp, night weighing heavily in the air even without the presence of windows to see it. Remus had long ago given up on the bench he was expected to use as a bed; he sat up against the wall, staring out the bars and trying to figure out when, exactly, so many of the major decisions of his life had fallen into other people's hands. 

It would have been more exciting to say that he didn't see the cloaked figure slip in the door and stand quietly outside the bars of his cell until he was right in front of him, but that wasn't true. Of course he saw it. He'd been waiting for it to appear, and only tangentially wondering if it would at all. 

"I won't ask how you got in here in the middle of the night, then," he murmured, the cloaked figure barely making the sounds of breathing. 

"I have some skills," was the only reply, and Remus almost smiled at the familiarity. 

He silently Summoned a chair and sank into it, his cloak folding gently over the side in liquid waves and heated eyes staring at Remus through the dark. It was almost like the war all over again, Remus couldn't help but think, and a long-lost sense of magnitude and thrill shot through him. It was down to the two of them again, facing each other in the darkness, each unsure where the other's loyalties lay. Had he his wand, Remus would have drawn it. 

"If you've come to tell me you won't testify," began Remus quietly, "you needn't bother. I was already quite aware of that." 

Severus remained silent, his steady inhale and exhale of breath barely making a sound. "I've not come to tell you that," he said at last, his voice low and weary. "In any case, you would find it out for yourself come morning." 

That much was true. "So you've come to gloat? See me behind bars one last time?" 

"Don't resort to melodrama, Lupin. It doesn't suit you." 

Remus stared at him, his temper suddenly flaring. "Look at this cage," he spat, angry eyes on Severus. "Look at it. And then look at _me_. Is this what you want? After everything we've– Just. Is this _really _what you want?" He expected Severus to hiss at him to keep his voice down, or roll his eyes mockingly, or say, _Yes, Lupin, a beast in a cage, that's all you've ever been_.

But Severus did not do or say any of those things. He remained seated in his chair but straightened his spine, squaring his shoulders and folding his hands in his lap, and when he finally spoke, the cool gravel of his voice made Remus shiver. "I am looking at you," he said, "and I don't see a cage, or a beast, unless that's what you want me to see." 

"Liar," said Remus, shaking his head. "You've always seen nothing but a beast when you look at me. Ever since–"

"Ever since what?" Severus cut in. "_What_? Say it, Lupin. Tell me I haven't changed one whit in twenty-five years. Tell me _you_ haven't changed me. Say that to my face." 

Remus stared at him, his jaw working but no sound coming out. 

"You know me better than anyone else alive, and likely better than anyone dead as well," he continued, his eyes not leaving Remus, "and you still think all I see when I look at you is the wolf in that tunnel." 

"You encouraged me," muttered Remus. "You spoke of the wolf constantly – how I ate, what I could smell, everything I wanted to do in bed–"

"I needed the excuse just as much as you did," said Severus, frowning and dropping his eyes at last. "It was easier for both of us, you know that." 

Remus stared at him as Severus looked up again, his jaw clenched in determination. 

"But neither of us need it anymore," Severus added. 

Remus dropped to the stiff bench again, running a hand through his hair. "You have to understand," he began, his mind a jumble of thoughts. "I don't know how to live without it. Erasing physical symptoms doesn't– I mean, it's like starting over with a new life. I've already done that so many times now, I don't know if I can–" He stopped, rubbing at his forehead and trying to figure out what he was trying to say. "I'm not very happy with you, you know." He didn't mean the words quite the way they came out, and the sudden stiffening of Severus's spine made him falter. "No, I mean–"

"I gathered that," snapped Severus. 

"I mean, right _now_," said Remus, gesturing at the cell bars. "Because of this." 

Severus had the sense to look vaguely guilty as his eyes roved over the bars. "Yes, well," he said stiffly. "Desperate times, Lupin." 

Remus didn't answer right away. He sat for a moment and just watched Severus through the bars, an abundance of memories from the years of their shared life crashing over him all at once, memories of heated arguments and wandless magic; of risky rescues and the long, weary thrill of stake-outs; of battles lost and wars won; of naked emotion and tears and blood and the silent shivering of bodies and skin that always found its way back together no matter how insistently other bodies tried to interfere. 

He gazed at the lines of Severus's face and the shield of his shoulders and remembered him as a thin teenager with long legs and more hair on his toes than on his chest; a terrified young man who had just participated in his first murder and trembled in Remus's bed after; an exhausted but determined Occlumens who used his own body and mind as the best weapon the Order had in that war; and the veteran of loss and shadow that sat before him now, flawed and perfect. 

When Remus spoke again, he almost didn't recognise his own voice. "I made a mistake," he began softly. "I can't even explain to myself why I did it, but it's done, and there's no changing it, and…" He felt his throat tighten. "… either we move forward from it, or we don't." 

Severus glared at him. "That's a remarkably succinct interpretation." 

"Severus." He spoke the name as he'd always done, drawing out the syllables and embracing each one, even when the man across from him usually refused to do the same for him. He leaned forward, not speaking again until he had Severus's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am _so _sorry." 

The dark eyes held his, and for the first time in months, Remus didn't worry about what Severus might see if he probed too deeply into his mind. The room narrowed to the two of them in the dark, the rush of every pain they had ever felt together tugging under Remus's skin. It couldn't be possible that all they had together was hurt and betrayal. There had to be more, Remus was sure of it. He wanted there to be more. 

"Tell me it's me," he began softly, the darkness giving way to splashes of colour behind his eyes as he thought it all through and it started to make sense. "Tell me it's not just your refusal to break a vow, even one made on a single rainy night without any magic to bind it." 

Severus held his eyes, his face neutral but his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

"Tell me it's not just habit, or fear of never finding anyone else. Tell me it's not just a convenient research experiment; your very own lab specimen to study." He reached his fingers through the bars and held them open. "Tell me," he breathed, "it's _me_."

The faint light from the corridor beyond the cell flickered, outlining Severus in dusty light. Remus would let go of his excuses and admit he wasn't a beast; he would take responsibility and admit he had fallen a little bit in lust with a man in a passing fling; and he would do anything he had to do to get out of this cell, but none of it would matter if Severus wasn't at the other end to hear it. He waited, hand outstretched. 

After a long moment, Severus rose from the chair. His fingers gently brushed against Remus's as he moved, pausing to hook the index finger into Remus's and slide it down, knuckles brushing past. He looked up and found Severus gazing at him, his brow creased and his eyes too dark to read. But without a word, Severus pulled his hand back and strode from the room, locking the door behind him as Remus stared after him, mouth slightly open and disappointment etched in every line of his darkened face. 

  


* * *

  


A guard came the next morning to retrieve Remus, informing him that the panel had reconvened. He squared his shoulders and attempted to enter the room in dignity, despite what he was sure he would hear in there. A lifetime of fighting the wolf, taming the wolf, and even indulging the wolf had finally caught up to him and now, at the very moment he should be free of it once and for all, it was going to turn out to be the final nail in his coffin. 

He entered the room and saw the panel already seated, Hermione looking like she'd had a restless night. She gave him a sympathetic look but quickly dropped her eyes, and he knew it was over before it had even begun. 

"All right," she said wearily, calling the session to order. 

There weren't many more people in attendance than there had been the day before. Charlie wasn't there this time, but Marina sat in the second row, her face lined with worry. She met Remus's eyes and exhaled, shaking her head as though the verdict had already been passed. 

"This panel has made its decision regarding the werewolf, R. J. Lupin," continued Hermione, reading stiffly from the parchment in front of her, "brought before us on the accusation that he poses a threat to–"

"A _sexual _threat!" the beady-eyed man from the Department of Magical Creatures corrected her, and she grit her teeth. 

"–to children under his care as a teacher," she finished, glaring at the beady-eyed man. 

Remus glanced around the room. This was it, then. If the Head of Magical Creatures wasn't on his side, then any potential verdict to set him free wouldn't be unanimous, as was required. He had thought Severus was only out to teach him a lesson, to force him to confront his own body and mind and see the truth about the wolf – and he'd done that. It was still a struggle, and almost too fantastic to believe, but he did feel different when he thought about it. The air around him had calmed, and the passing curiosities about strangers' bodies that brushed too close to him or smiled shyly at him were just that – passing curiosities of a human nature. He was ready to stop blaming the wolf and try to live his life under the same conditions as everyone else. It was the exact thing he'd been fighting for all these years, after all. 

But Severus's absence weighed on him; it meant this whole thing hadn't just been about teaching him a lesson, or getting revenge. Severus had the power now to stop this, and he wasn't there. Remus sat with his hands in his lap, staring at the opposite wall and fighting the waves of fear and disappointment crashing over him. He'd done this. He'd betrayed Severus and done this to himself, and there was no turning back from it now. 

"Will the accused please stand?" Hermione's voice cut into his thoughts, and Remus wearily pushed his chair back. 

"Remus J. Lupin," she began, her voice trembling, "this panel has been forced to conclude that without sufficient evidence to substantiate your claims, the _myth_–" At this she turned to glare at the beady-eyed man – "of the sexual compulsion of werewolves must be taken as fact. We have no choice but to–" She stopped abruptly, her wide eyes fixed on the back of the room. 

The click of a door closing led the spectators to follow her eyes, and Marina let out a tiny squeal before clapping her hand over her mouth. Remus turned slowly, not daring to hope for what he wanted to see. 

Severus paused at the door, surveying the room until his gaze landed on Remus and he held it, his chest rising and falling rhythmically under his black robes. He looked irritated at best, furious at worst, and the entire room fell silent in his presence. Finally, he glanced up at Hermione and the panel and spoke in a rough voice. "Is the European Union Committee for Magical Research and Development prepared to accept the testimony of an acquitted murderer, so long as he is a citizen of an accredited member country?" he asked in challenge, his voice echoing around the airless room. 

"I believe we are," said Hermione quickly, fighting down a smile as she nodded at the men on either side of her. 

"We have no authority to make that decision," the beady-eyed man barked, turning on Hermione. "We cannot speak for the Committee! This witness must appeal to Brussels first, and only then could we _possibly_ entertain the–"

"We decided who _couldn't_ testify yesterday," the Director of Marina's institute pointed out, raising an eyebrow at the beady-eyed man, and Hermione rushed to agree. 

"Exactly," she said, nodding her head and beckoning Severus forward. "We already said we would accept the testimony of an English researcher." The beady-eyed man continued to grumble, but Hermione waved him off as Severus approached the judges. 

He strode up the small aisle, and Remus watched with trepidation as he passed Remus's table without a glance, moving to take a seat beside the panel and swearing all sorts of things involving truth in the name of the Minister and such, but Remus didn't hear any of it. The dread in his heart turned to warmth, spreading out from the core of him as he gazed at Severus, but he still wasn't sure what Severus would say. Maybe he had only come to twist the knife in deeper; maybe he would testify to any number of other personal things that could incriminate Remus; maybe he –

"There have been numerous advances in werewolf biology since the aftermath of the Second War provided so many unemployed werewolves to study," Severus began, and Remus's mouth fell open a bit as he listened. "Many of them are so poor that giving a bit of blood or a tissue sample in return for a hot meal and a day's wages seems a brilliant idea." 

"Get on with it!" the beady-eyed man bellowed, but Hermione interjected. 

"This case involves werewolves," she pointed out. "I think we need to hear everything we can about how they live these days, and," she added, "if there is new evidence, perhaps that employment law of yours can finally be revoked, Adam." She glared at him before turning back to Severus. "Please, Mr Snape, continue." 

As Severus spoke, outlining what he and Marina had discovered in their work, Remus finally began to breathe again. This didn't solve everything, but it was a start, and after this many years and this many ups and downs, Remus knew that no matter what happened in their lives, there was still no one he would rather be with in a time of crisis, no eyes he would rather look to for reassurance, and no voice he'd rather hear barking at him about cooking chicken for dinner, or whispering to him between cool sheets at night, than that of Severus Snape. 

  


* * *

  


Once the verdict had been read and the formalities of Remus's release observed, he left Severus to sign some forms and speak further with the beady-eyed man about Remus's employment, and he headed down the corridor after Marina. He found her on the steps in the Ministry lobby, smoking a cigarette and gazing out at the bustling wizards and witches hurrying through the building. She looked up as Remus approached and sat down beside her, stretching his legs out over several steps and clasping his hands in his lap. She glanced away as soon as he was settled, exhaling long and slow before pausing to pick a piece of tobacco from the end of her tongue. 

"I'm sorry," she said at last, not looking at him, a slightly petulant note in her voice. "Okay?" 

A man in purple robes walked by, one hand wrapped firmly around something that was struggling fiercely and brandishing its tiny fists at him, screaming in a stream of incoherent chatter. Remus watched him make his way to the lift and angrily peruse the list of floors to figure out which one was best suited for his problem. 

"Okay," Remus said. "But you don't have anything to apologise for." 

She turned her head at that, her gaze heated. "I pushed for all of this. I told him it would help, if we could prove that you–"

"I know," he interrupted her, "and it did help. So, I should be thanking you." 

She let out a short laugh. "Thanking me. Yes, okay. This is just what you thought you'd be doing, two weeks ago. Yes?" 

He gazed out at the fountain. "No, I suppose not." 

"You've never trusted me," she said softly, nudging his arm. "Admit it." 

He pressed his lips together for a moment. "I… suppose I've been wrong about rather a lot of things lately," he said, glancing sideways at her. 

"It's okay," she said with a wry smile. "I didn't trust you either." 

He laughed at that, shaking his head and gesturing for permission to take a quick drag off her cigarette. She passed it over with a grin, letting out a slow stream of smoke. "So, yeah," he said, moving the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. "Thank you. I should probably say something to Bill," he added, "but I just don't think I can." He passed the cigarette back to her and she rolled it between her fingers. 

"He is gone anyway." 

"To France?" 

She shook her head. "To Egypt. Imagine!" She gave a choked sort of laugh, waving the cigarette. "A new job, he said. You know, he always did love it there. I remember when I first met him, a long time ago, we could never get him to leave Egypt." 

Remus felt the cool stone of the steps against his body and when he tried to conjure images of Bill in his mind, all the images that had haunted him for months, he found he couldn't. Bill's skin had cooled and his eyes had dimmed, and Remus could barely recall the pattern of his tattoos. He figured that should mean something, but he wasn't sure he was equipped to draw any conclusions just yet. "What about France?" he asked, and Marina pursed her lips. 

"Well," she said, "I think he will see his baby more now. Try harder. But Fleur…" She took another drag. "Maybe it was never a good idea. He seems to… well. Let's say that maybe a woman was the wrong choice for him, hm?" She gave Remus a pointed look. 

"Ah," said Remus, and _there_ it was, flooding back into his head like a wave: Bill on his hands and knees; Bill's fist around his cock; Bill's tongue flicking over – 

Yes, it was all still there, but without the same pull as before. Without the same risky appeal. He sighed, and they sat in companionable silence for a long minute, watching the hordes of people pass by. 

"I owe you for something else," he said after a moment, his voice quiet, and she glanced at him. "For… letting him call her." 

She stared at him. "Bill?" she asked, and Remus held her eyes. 

"Not Bill." 

There was a pause as she dropped her head, shaking it slowly. When she looked back at him again, her eyes were sad. "He didn't exactly ask my permission. But, you know," she added, "it was to help you, so… What can I do?" Her youthful face creased as she chewed on her bottom lip and seemed to consider her next words. "She used to work in the Magical Creatures department," she said quietly. "Had some business with dragons and such. Between that, and when Ron left to move up north, she…" Marina trailed off, twisting the cigarette in her fingers before stamping it out on the stone floor beside her. 

He let out a breath, nodding wearily. "If it helps," he began, "he told me he hadn't seen her for some years." 

Marina smiled at that. "Oh, I know. It is in the past, I am sure of this, or I would not be here." She tilted her head to the side. "But that does not make it easier to see her, you know?" 

He nodded. 

"You should remember something," she added. "Severus may forgive you, but he will not forget this. You should not be inviting Bill to dinner, okay?" Her tone was playful but firm. "Or any business trip to Egypt. No. If you want this, then it is up to you now. You have to show it." 

He nodded again, his hands folded in his lap. "Do you trust Charlie now?" he asked, and she ran a hand over her face and then up, smoothing her hair back and cradling her head in one hand, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

"Yes," she said after a moment. "Mostly. But now you see, eh?" she added, her eyes narrowing and a wry grin on her face. "It is not only you with these problems, and not only wolves." 

Remus smiled at that, reaching out to put his arm around her. She let her head fall against his shoulder and sighed, and he couldn't think of anything to do but hold her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, with the wolf as far from his mind and his sympathies as it had ever been in his life. 

  


* * *

  


Severus joined them a short time later, having signed the proper forms and agreed to the proper people that he would monitor Remus's condition and report any anomalies from his other lab findings to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately. He glanced between Remus and Marina with concern, but he seemed to relax when Remus met his eyes. He unwound his arm from Marina and helped her to her feet, and the three of them made their way out. 

They insisted on seeing her home, and after they had Apparated to her house, she gave them both a weak smile and stepped inside, promising to Floo soon so they could all do dinner again. Remus had to bite back a laugh at the irony. His life had been flipped upside down and back again, and yet still, some things never changed. 

He watched her until the door was closed and then turned to Severus to find dark eyes already on him. "Hermione," he asked in a low voice. "Did you know?" The thin lips turned down. 

"I didn't know who, but I deduced from things Marina said that there had been someone." He paused. "Men that militant about fidelity are usually motivated by their own guilt, after all." 

Remus shook his head sadly. "How do you think she ever forgave him?" 

"I'm sure she didn't," said Severus simply. "Not entirely, at least. Men are swine; she knows that." 

Remus started to object, but the look on Severus's face wouldn't let him. It was wry and closed and seeping with emotion all at once – the exact Severus-patented look that always made Remus shake his head and smile despite himself. "They are," he agreed, eyeing Severus carefully. "It almost makes one wonder why two men would ever choose to be together, given the swinish properties of both." 

"Indeed. The two men in question would have to be mad." 

"Well, I think that much was proven a long time ago." Remus chewed on his bottom lip. "I suppose she must love him a great deal, to forgive something like that." He watched Severus closely, but Severus's eyes were far away, gazing out over the gravel path that led down to the road. 

"I suppose she must," he said at last, not turning to Remus. He was silent for a moment, and then he added, "That, and I'm sure she has his balls in a sling at this point." He glanced over at Remus at last, forcing down a wry smile as his dark eyes narrowed. He waited until Remus met his gaze, his expression softer than Remus would have imagined, and Remus breathed him in deeply. "_It's you_," Severus murmured. "To answer your question. Which, frankly, you should know better than to ask." His voice returned to its normal clip. "It's always been you." 

Remus tried to hold onto the look in Severus's eyes, but it was too intense, and he had to drop his head, relief flooding him as he ran a hand through his hair and let the ground underneath him swim out of focus. Before he could say anything else, Severus turned and walked down the front path of Marina and Charlie's house and past the gate that led to their guest house out back. His eyes flickered briefly to the gate and Remus saw his fists clench. But a second later, he relaxed again and turned back to Remus. 

"Are you coming?" he asked quietly. 

Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We need to talk, I think." He gave Severus a weak smile. 

"Yes, we do, and that's not what I asked." 

Remus thought back to the question and couldn't help but laugh. "Yes," he replied, running a hand over his face, because try as he might to escape the indescribable insanity of life with Severus Snape, he knew he neither could, nor wanted to. "I'm coming." 

They Apparated at the end of the lane and found themselves outside their own front gate, the house standing expectantly before them as though their return had been a given, rather than a hard-fought battle. They approached the door and Severus paused, squinting at it. Remus glanced at him. 

"What?" 

"We should paint that door." 

"I'm not painting that door." 

"Lupin, it's hideous. What will the neighbours think?" The wry sarcasm in his voice, unaccompanied by a smile, made Remus's heart warm with familiarity. 

"They will think we have a hideous door, and that we like it that way. Besides," he added, "it reminds me of you." 

Severus turned to look at him, his face unreadable. "Because it's blue?" he asked after a pause, and Remus choked back a laugh. 

_No, you idiot_, he wanted to say. _Because it may chip and crack and bloat in the summer and drip ice in the winter; it may peel in places and tarnish in others; it may close abruptly some days for no reason and open on creaking hinges the next, ready and welcoming; but one thing it will never do is disappear, or fade to black_.

"Yeah," he said with a resigned nod of his head, pushing past the wards and stepping inside. "Because it's blue." 

-fin-


End file.
